Everglow
by Flutist Girl
Summary: Sequel to "Broken Wings". During a raid of Midgar, Vincent finds two silver haired children living in the dark alleys. Frightened, alone, and scarred, Nadiya and Aidan, the twin children of Sephiroth, must learn to escape their father's dark legacy.
1. Silver Haired Children

Everglow: Chapter One

The alarm went off at around three in the morning.

The shrill, shrieking warnings did their job well, and within minutes, nearly every light in Midgar and Edge flickered on, violently jarring the sleeping cities to life. Civilians, despite the barely decipherable warnings over the loudspeaker to stay indoors, were migrating outside, hands clamped over their ears even as they shouted to each other over the clamor for information.

"It's been years since the alarms have been used!"

"Not since Sephiroth…"

"What in Gaia is going on?"

Above the confused chatter, a fleet helicopters scanned the area, their own noise drowned by the siren. Bright searchlights split the darkness, roving from area to area in their thorough investigation. The sky was alight with the red and blue blinking lights of the helicopters, a stark contrast to the gentle twinkling of the stars.

Rumors began to fly from panicked and confused mouths. Some said that Sephiroth had indeed returned, and the thought of another Nibelheim only made the fear worse. Despite all the half-truths and myths that ravaged the minds of the occupants of Midgar, there was one that rang true.

"The Turks are sealing off the area!"

Vincent Valentine could no longer decipher one voice from another amid the din. His pale face was drawn; he didn't enjoy the ruckus, and saying that he was out of his comfort zone amidst the thousands of people would be an understatement.

His crimson cloak was pulled up, covering more of his face than usual, and he kept his eyes down, knowing that if he were recognized as a member of Avalanche he would see no rest until the affair blew over. Even so, he was able to creep silently and fluidly through the throng, listening, observing, and trying to make sense of it all.

The prominent explanation was indeed that Sephiroth had returned, and this was also the most unlikely. Perhaps Vincent was the only one to see it, as every other civilian was blinded by panic, or maybe because he had been one of the few eyewitnesses to the tragedy of the past months.

Sephiroth was not going to return, and if he did, by some inconceivably small chance, it would not be to kill.

So what was the problem?

His search for answers led his crimson eyes to the sky. To his surprise, it was not the mark of Shinra on the planes. From this distance, he couldn't quite make it out, but it was not the ruby box and black calligraphy of the famed company. Instead, the logo was thinner, more elaborate, and seemed to be a light, sea foam green etched with white.

Which led him to ponder whether the helicopters were trying to help or were, in fact, the source of the entire problem.

He was given evidence of the later choice soon enough.

From the flying machines arced thin pillars of fire, and when the parabola hit the ground, a roar struck the earth. Mayhem reached an unbearable level at the presence of the bombs.

If that was Shinra, Vincent concluded, he was going to have a gun-oriented chat with Rufus.

Coherent speech had turned to shrieks and cries, and Vincent was able to gather no more information. Frustrated, he slipped into a back alley, welcoming the darkness.

The sound, though not entirely eliminated with the distance, had sunk to a level in which he could concentrate.

The projectiles he had seen were not explosives. Working with the Turks had given him enough experience in the area to be fairly sure of his decision. They seemed to be a closer match to the capsules used to carry chemicals. The color of the smoke ebbing away with the wind allowed him to classify that chemical as a heavy, almost illegal sedative.

So their aim was not to kill. That was somewhat consoling. But such a rare medicine used in such massive quantities was startling. The helicopters were not being stingy with their supply, dousing the city with as much of it as they dared.

Vincent carefully tracked the pattern of the helicopters, noting the formations, where they struck, and with what quantities of drugs. It was through this careful noting of signs that he was able to tell when they had spotted whatever it was they were looking for.

The helicopters, which had previously been spread across the sky, consolidated around one area, and the capsules fell more freely. The subject seemed to be on the run, as they moved in a clear northerly pattern, adjusting their course to every little turn the runaway made to his path.

Which turned out to be straight toward Vincent.

He figured that he had done all he could, and as he wasn't particularly keen about being hit with a substance that would knock him senseless for weeks, he decided to abandon the mission and get the details later.

As he was leaving, a small, weak cough rang through the alley.

Vincent turned, certain that he had imagined it all, but there it was again, and a third time, though it was clearly trying in vain to be stifled. He turned behind him. Next to a large, overflowing dumpster, a thin, worn brown blanket quivered in the cold.

"Hello," Vincent said, trying not to sound as fearsome as he must have looked. "What are you doing here, little one?"

He could tell it was a child; the form was too small to be otherwise. Wide, bright green eyes peered through a hole in the blanket before the child slunk back, shaking harder, its breathing hard and frantic.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Vincent assured the child. "Are you frightened by the noise, is that it?"

The child stepped back again, slowly, before it turned its back and ran.

Vincent didn't adore children but neither did he want this little one wandering the dark, crime-infested alleyways of Midgar. He followed, calling out to the child, who only stumbled on, walking with a horrible limp. He knew that the child couldn't run for long.

And he was right.

The child slipped over a branch that had fallen in its path, and silently, without crying out, fell to the ground. They had reached a dead end, Vincent standing before the child and ten foot walls of concrete surrounding it on the other three sides.

Vincent sunk to his knees and held a hand out to the child. "Here, I want to help you."

The tiny, quivering body shied back, still not rising to its feet.

"What is your name, little one?"

No answer. The child scooted back until pressed firmly against the concrete.

Vincent slowly advanced, managing to seize a pale, bony hand in his own. "Hey there," he said softly as he reached up to pull the blanket away from the child's face. "See? I'm only here to he—"

Vincent stopped dead, frozen, as the blanket fell away from the child's face.

Her face was pale, and delicately shaped. The rest of her body was agonizingly pale, and she looked as if she had not seen a meal in weeks.

That was not what struck him most.

Long, gently waved silver hair glimmered in the moonlight, tied in two braids with ribbon that was clearly years old. Tears were spilling from those beautiful, innocent catlike green eyes, so poisoned with fear. He had noticed an odd hump to her back, and as he slipped the blanket off, he found a pair of pure white wings.

This was the daughter of Sephiroth.

Nadiya.

The girl shook violently, silently crying, turning her face away as she struggled in vain to free her hands. Vincent was struck not only with disbelief, but with sympathy for the frightened girl.

Was it possible that she was still alive after everyone, her parents included, believed her to be dead? Apparently it was. Here she was, her eyes, hair, and wings testifying without a doubt of her parentage.

He was hit with a wave of sorrow as he looked at her closer, seeing not only her notorious father, but so much of her gentle mother as well.

"Nadiya," Vincent whispered, enclosing her in his strong arms. She looked at him and stopped struggling, confusion replacing fear to a great degree. "Nadiya, I knew your parents. I am here to help you. I am a friend."

Still cautions, she nonetheless accepted with gratitude Vincent's crimson cloak, which he wrapped around her. He rubbed her arms, trying to warm them, reassuring her with his gentleness.

He was so absorbed in tending to the young girl that he didn't notice how the helicopters had gathered around his area, encircling them and dropping more chemicals then before.

He didn't see the silver streak until it hit him dead on, the newcomer lashing out with his fists.

"Get away from my sister or I swear I will kill you!"

* * *


	2. The Protector

Everglow: Chapter Two

Vincent had expected to run into little Aidan sooner or later. He hadn't, however, predicted that he would literally be attacked. Aidan, though not even half Vincent's height, was fighting with his bare fists and, eventually, a dull, rusted knife. "Get away from her!" he screamed over and over again.

To show he wasn't there to harm Nadiya, he gently set her down, allowing her to stay wrapped in his cloak. This didn't satisfy Aidan. He moved between Nadiya and Vincent and swept his knife horizontally, the warning clear. "Get out of here! And if you tell Shinra we're here, I swear I'll hunt you down!"

The threats were as bold and commanding as if they had been from his father, however, they sounded odd coming from such a small mouth.

Vincent stepped back a ways. It was obvious by his fighting that the boy had not been trained. His strokes were jerky and he often left openings through which, if it had been Vincent's desire, he could have overtaken the boy. Even so, the boy's catlike, glowing green eyes were fierce and determined, his face grim and passive. And Vincent had to admit, for receiving no instruction, he was quick, light on his feet, and powerful, though that power could not yet be channeled through his blade.

Not only was this boy a replica of his father physically, but it was also clear that Aidan had inherited his father's raw talent.

Vincent had no intention of hurting Aidan; in fact, his motives were quite to the contrary. "Aidan," he tried, evading another blow but not striking back. "I'm a friend. I knew your parents. I want to help."

"We don't want it!" Aidan shrieked. "Go away!"

Vincent persisted. "Aidan, those helicopters are after you."

"Yeah, I knew that!"

"Do you want to be taken back?"

That hit a nerve. Aidan lowered his hand, but still clenched the hilt of the ancient knife. He was quiet for a while, but then his scowl deepened.

"You're one of them!" he hissed. Aidan lashed out, flying toward Vincent. He didn't even flinch as the knife hit his arm, drawing a thick wound in crimson.

Nadiya somehow managed to get to her feet, throwing herself on her brother. He finally fell still. "Nadiya?" he asked, much more gentle and worried now. He embraced her tightly. "Did he hurt you? Are you all right?"

Vincent wasn't worried about his arm, it would heal, but Nadiya's condition truly concerned him. He knew that the two were twins, but she was so much smaller than her brother. She looked fragile, breakable, like a porcelain doll. Aidan had managed to live on what little food they could scavenge, but she was far too thin to be called healthy by any stretch of the imagination even considering their lifestyle.

Helicopters now surrounded them, and it seemed that now the men were taking a different approach. Ladders fell as they dropped their altitude, armed men sliding down and quickly encircling Vincent and the twins. Aidan threw himself over his sister, glaring at them dangerously even though it was obvious that he was as terrified as his sister, who hid her face in her brother's shoulder.

Vincent drew his three-barreled gun Cerberus. The men answered by aiming their guns at him, a few moving to hold the twins in check as well. Hundreds of barrels aimed for the trio.

"We don't want to hurt you," a masked man said. "We're here for numbers fifty and fifty-one."

Vincent frowned deeply, loathing how these children were reduced to meaningless numbers. Apparently Aidan had the same hatred, as he moved violently, but whatever intent he had held was silenced as hundreds of guns clicked, readying to fire.

"What business do you have with them?" Vincent asked darkly even though he was sure that he already knew.

"They are our property. We own the legal rights to them. It is not your concern what happens to them."

Vincent remembered the scars on Aidan's legs, and assumed safely that Nadiya had not been spared. His blood ran hot. He had been an adult, and while that didn't justify what had been done to him, these were defenseless children, victims of science simply chosen for their bloodline.

Nadiya had scooted over to him and was now clinging to his leg, trembling. She didn't have to speak for Vincent to hear her plea for help.

Aidan tried to pull his sister from Vincent's leg, but the men's arms seized him. Aidan startled flailing frantically, kicking and biting, writhing his body violently in his attempt to escape. More men came in to support their friend, as the first few were almost foiled by the boy's raw strength.

Eventually another managed to ensnare Nadiya, one man cruelly slapping her across a pale, sallow cheek when she struggled, drawing blood that ran freely.

Vincent couldn't watch this any longer.

He was about to make a very powerful enemy with this attacking organization.

* * *


	3. Pure Chaos

Everglow - Chapter Three

Vincent felt the scathing, urgent invitation almost immediately. Chaos had awakened, sensing Vincent's rage and feeding off it, strengthening, thriving. He felt a bloodlust that was not his own that made his skin chill, his blood hot, and his eyes fiery. Chaos was eager to taste of freedom.

It was a tempting invitation, but he feared for the children. What would little Nadiya think as the man she reached for suddenly turned into the embodiment of her worst nightmares? Even worse, if Chaos controlled Vincent, the children had no guarantee for their lives. The demon would not distinguish between innocent and guilty, child and adult. To Chaos, they were just more victims.

But it was getting harder and harder to fight as Chaos fed off the tension and fear in the surroundings. Soon, no matter what he did, he would be overpowered.

The men seemed to sense Vincent's inner turmoil, and began to act as if victory was sure. While Vincent still had guns aimed at him on every side, the children were being dragged away.

Nadiya's tiny, pale hand was still reaching out for Vincent, pleading helplessly.

In the second of weakness, of horror, that seized the gunman, Chaos seized control. Red, creeping mist flowed to envelop Vincent's body, and then there was a blinding flash.

The fierce, winged demon did not wait for the men to regain their sight. Instantly, the demon was everywhere, striking quick and hard like crimson lightning. Within seconds, half of the attacking force was leveled.

The remaining soldiers, regaining their senses, began to flee for their lives, not knowing their attacker but having sense enough to figure that they were no match for him.

Chaos left few alive.  
When Chaos was satisfied that every last man had been properly taken care of, he landed, his tattered wings still extended.

Vincent breathed in relief and began to seep back into his original form. Nadiya and Aidan had not been among the victims; he was sure of it. Though his gaze had been colored crimson and was hazy and distinct, his body in control of another, he knew that somehow then children had escaped.

But horror knocked the breath from him again as, halfway through the metamorphosis, Nadiya gave a harsh, violent cough.

This new prey, as Vincent had feared, intrigued Chaos. What grip Vincent had managed to obtain was lost, his conscious will thrown to the uttermost parts of the mind of this demon, as if he were merely an insignificant memory.

"Run!" Vincent managed to exert enough control to rasp the word from the demon's mouth.

The children did not heed Vincent's final warning, and they clasped each other tightly, huddled in the corner, Nadiya shaking as her brother bit his bottom lip, quelling his own fear to strengthen his ailing sister.

As Chaos glared at the children with venomous yellow eyes, Aidan rose to his feet, planting himself firmly in between the attacker and his sister. Feeble, but with all the courage of twenty men, he raised his rusted dagger and hissed, "You stay away from her!"

Chaos laughed long and hard, the harsh sound sending shivers down the children's spines. Dark lips, vibrant against such pale skin, curled into a malicious smile. Vincent knew that Chaos would go for Nadiya first, make her brother watch as he tore her tiny, defenseless body to pieces and then granted him his own, slow death.

Chaos stepped back, and let out a roar that drained the blood even from Aidan's face.

Aidan didn't move even as Chaos charged him.

Vincent forced his consciousness into darkness. He had seen countless scenes of warfare and violence, but he couldn't watch this.

Which was why he was so surprised when the demon's long, clawed hands never found contact with either of the children.

A sweet, pure sensation coursed through his veins, like cool water on a burn, banishing Chaos with a mighty roar of anger and frustration. He felt the weakness that often accompanied his transformation into normality, and embraced it, falling to his knees as much out of relief as of exhaustion.

Had the Nadiya felt it too? Was that why Nadiya's emerald eyes were shining, her lips in a smile of ecstasy, as tears of elation fell down her cheeks?

Vincent was slipping into blissful slumber, but he could have sworn he felt cool, soothing hands on his shoulders, seeping the fatigue and pain from his body.

_Please_, a musical voice pleaded. _Protect my children…_

He knew that voice, though he had not heard it in years. He found that his memory of it had been flawed; it was much softer, and expressed an infinite compassion and gentleness. He could see her, arms ever outstretched, eyes shining, peaceful even in death.

But had his memory simply been jarred by the stress of the situation?

Vincent liked to think that it hadn't.

* * *


	4. The Promise

Broken Wings - Chapter Four

Vincent awoke on the same chilled cobblestones, his back sore from the unforgiving ruggedness of the road. Groaning softly, he began to pull himself up, but stopped abruptly, feeling a small weight shift as he rose.

Peering down, he saw a small head resting at his side, long, silver hair spilling from the torn ribbon and cascading to the ground below. Nadiya's pale face was smooth and flawless, her expression peaceful in sleep. Her thin form was curled up tightly against the nook in Vincent's side, her white wings lying limply on the ground, his crimson cloak draped over the both of them. He could feel the beating of her heart through her tiny ribcage, and hear the soft melody of her breaths.

Aidan was sitting a ways off, legs and arms folded crossly. He was wide-awake, eyes narrowed in scorn as they focused with lethal intensity on Vincent. It was clear that he was acting as the guard, and that he didn't approve of Nadiya's blind faith in the man who had, before their eyes, transformed into a nightmarish fiend.

Nadiya sighed softly, contently, and shifted in her sleep.

Vincent rose again, more carefully this time, cautious not to jar her from her dreams. Aidan relaxed, but only by the smallest degree. His distrust was still clear.

Silently, without saying a word, Vincent left.

Aidan hadn't expected the gunman to return, but he did, two bowls balanced carefully in his hands. Working methodically, he removed the plastic covering and stirred the contents a little. Despite Aidan's distrust, he couldn't stop his mouth from watering at the sight of the steam that rose from the meal. A smell wafted his way, filling his senses with blends of gentle herbs and vegetables and meats.

He had only been gifted with a warm meal once, and it was an experience that he had never forgotten, and longed deeply for in the dead of the night. He gulped, despite himself, knowing that the action did not go unnoticed by Vincent.

The man held the bowl out to him, but at a distance that would force Aidan to approach him in order to grasp is reward. Aidan frowned deeply, but could bear it no longer.

"That one's for Nadiya?" Aidan asked, gesturing to the second.

Vincent nodded, holding the bowl out a little further.

Being assured that his sister would receive the same treat, Aidan leapt forward and seized the bowl, savoring the warmth and condensation that had formed on his small, bare hands. He quickly jerked back, retreating with his prize, and dove into the corner, turning his back to Vincent as he began to eat.

Vincent gently shook Nadiya's shoulders. As her pure, innocent eyes opened, he unveiled the gift he had brought for her.

Like her brother, the little girl responded to the simple soup with reverence, as if it were a holy relic.

Vincent once again removed the top and stirred the soup, then placed the bowl in the girl's tiny hands. Her eyes widened, and he guessed that she had never felt such warmth. He didn't rush her into eating, and let her savor every tiny, timid bite. She didn't stop when that was done. She took her two fingers and scraped them along the sides, licking the rich broth from her fingers, shuddering with delight.

When it was done, Nadiya threw her arms around Vincent's neck, rocking him back from the force with which she leapt upon him. Burying her head in his shoulder, she embraced him with all the might her tiny body possessed.

Vincent, taken aback on what to do, settled for patting her gently on the back.

Aidan had moved about a yard closer to Vincent and his sister, though he was still several feet off. He too held out a bowl that had been licked clean. He couldn't bring himself to thank Vincent, but it was enough for Vincent to simply see the twins fed.

When Nadiya had relented her grip, settling for curling up in his lap instead, he pulled yet another treat from his pocket.

"What is it?" Aidan asked, regarding the offered red and white striped stick with confusion.

"Peppermint," Vincent said. "I'm no expert on children, but this is little Marlene's favorite candy. You don't have to take it if you don't want," he added as Aidan raised a single, silver eyebrow.

"Sugar?" Aidan asked. "You're giving us…_sugar?_" It had been the forbidden word in Hojo's lab. To mention it was an instant guarantee of another hour strapped to the table.

To taste of the forbidden fruit had been even sweeter than the nourishing meal.

Aidan was starting to think that maybe Vincent wasn't so bad.

* * *

Nadiya was breathing hard, too hard not to be in pain. She had started to shake a moment ago and Vincent, suspecting that this was simply due to the falling temperatures that naturally accompanied the twilight.

But it was becoming clear that something more was wrong.

"Nadiya," Vincent called, sounding calm and grave even though he was beginning to worry. "What is it?"

"She can't talk." Aidan had been mostly quiet, but now Vincent raised his eyes to meet the boy's emerald ones. "Not since she was born, Hojo said."

Vincent frowned, turning back to Nadiya. "Aidan," he began slowly. "She's ill. She needs help that neither of us can offer her."

Aidan staggered back, eyes widening as he grasped the meaning. "No…I won't let you take her back!"

"Hojo isn't at Shinra any longer," Vincent insisted hurriedly, fearing he'd lost Aidan to panic or worse. "And she will die if we don't."

Aidan drew his dagger again, the little trust that had been in his eyes gone. "Put her down! We've been living just fine on our own; we'll do it again! Forever! We don't need anyone else, you hear me? _Nobody!_" He started at a frantic talk, but the last word was screamed.

Vincent returned his violent outburst with silence. Aidan howled and threw himself at Vincent again.

With a flick of his wrist, Vincent sent the knife flying. He pinned Aidan to the wall, holding his wrists in an iron grip.

"I don't know how to make you believe me," Vincent said slowly. "I want to help. I can't let Nadiya die. I'm doing this for her. I'm sorry, but if you won't help, then you leave me no choice. I'll come back later, and I will bring Nadiya back to you. That much, I swear."

Aidan met Vincent's gaze with his own poisonous glare for minutes, and then fell limp in Vincent's grip. "They'll…you can't understand," he pleaded. "I can't watch him do that to her again."

Vincent released the boy and gathered the quivering girl in his arms. Taking the boy's small hand with the arm he wasn't using to support Nadiya, he squeezed reassuringly.

"Believe me when I say that I do understand, Aidan. More than you will ever know."

* * *

A/N: Well, I want to rewrite this one, but I'm exhausted and I want you guys to read even more.

I know sequels are never as good as the originals, but I'm glad that you are finding Everglow a worthy read thus far. Thank you so much for your support!

* * *


	5. Exiled Souls

Everglow - Chapter Five

Nobody at Shinra was prepared for the arrival of Sephiroth's children.

Vincent had run in, him and the children dripping from the storm they had just braved. Aidan stood at Vincent's side, holding to the man's cloak, as both hands had been needed to restrain Nadiya's writhing.

The nurses didn't need records to know the parentage of the children; the silver hair and trademark eyes were enough.

The secretary looked up from behind the counter, eyes narrowing at the children. "They are not welcome here," she said blatantly, then causally returned to her paperwork. When Vincent didn't budge and in fact, advanced.

She stood. "My husband was in Nibelheim," she hissed hatefully. "They are not welcome here."

Vincent tightened his grip as another violent tremor ran through the tiny girl's body. "You have to help her," he said darkly. "She's dying."

"I can _see_ that," the secretary returned spitefully. "Now leave, or I will call the authorities."

"Then call them," Vincent challenged, his voice rising in anger. "Tell Rufus that the children of Sephiroth are here. Remind him of the debt that he owes to their mother!"

The call was made, but it made no difference. The secretary refused to allow admittance.

Rufus came down half an hour later, trailing a small fleet of scientists and, to Vincent's surprise, a large number of the Turks.

After a long stretch of time that Nadiya could not spare, a stretcher was brought. Nadiya gripped Vincent tightly, refusing to part with him as they tried to lay her down. Vincent finally convinced her, but she still held fast to his hand. Aidan deftly climbed aboard as well, perching himself at his sister's side.

Vincent soon learned that bringing the Turks was good planning on Rufus's part.

Apparently the door to the emergency room had been locked, and the ornery secretary wasn't about to surrender the key.

"Ha! I am expected to assist these…these _freaks_? Sephiroth killed my husband! I don't care if she suffers the same fate!"

The Turks, Vincent soon realized, weren't meant for persuading the secretary.

They were for restraining Aidan.

He had taken the insult to himself with a level face, but the clear threat to his sister ignited his fury. The boy flew from his sister's side, running toward the secretary. Tens of Turks rushed forward, and Vincent silently applauded Rufus. He had not underestimated the boy's raw strength.

The secretary saw how she had hurt Aidan, and continued. "Maybe her death will do some good! Sephiroth should suffer the same pain he's forced upon us!"

"_Shut up!_" Aidan screamed at the top of his lungs. He continued to scream, fighting against the arms that held him, his eyes mad with fury.

Tseng finally forced the woman to give her key up under gunpoint, and at last, Nadiya was admitted. Aidan hissed and spat, shaking with rage, stuttering as he tried in vain to release his anger in words. The Turks, managed to push him along after his sister, and he concentrated his energy on her, though he still couldn't calm down.

"Aidan," Vincent warned softly. "You can't do that again."

Aidan was indignant, and would have fought back, but he was still incapable of words.

They were led to a small, white room that smelled strongly of antiseptic. Much to the disapproval of both Aidan and Vincent, the scientists of Shinra entered, identifiable by their long, starched white lab coats.

"Get out!" Aidan snarled at the scientists.

"Hey, kid. We're _trying_ to help." The leader turned to Vincent. "He shouldn't be in here."

"Why not? He's her brother. I don't think you'd enjoy the consequences of separating them."

The man pursed his lips, not liking how Vincent showed no support for his cause. "He might not like what we have to do."

"And that is?"

The dark, thin eyebrows furrowed, and he haughtily turned to Nadiya, whose nose and mouth were covered by a respirator. It seemed they were giving her some kind of sedative, because her eyes were drifting closed even though she fought to remain awake.

Under Vincent's stern request, she was hooked up to a heart monitor. He reasoned that if it so happened that it _wasn't_ a sedative in the air she was given, and something meant to be lethal, he could tell relatively quickly by the telltale beeps. They did this only reluctantly, which made him worry. He thought it was a standard procedure. Either it had slipped their minds or they were hiding something.

"Get her vitals," the scientist ordered.

They concluded that her heart was beating far too fast, and wasn't slowing too much with the sedative, and that she was pale and tense, her pulse racing.

_Understandable,_ Vincent thought. _She grew up under Hojo's care_. He let her hold his hand, not even flinching when she gripped it with a surprising strength for such a frail body.

"You're doing well," Vincent said softly to the dazed girl. "Be strong for just a little longer, then you can sleep."

Nadiya had let adhesive probes be placed on her chest and the mask tightened around her face. She endured the heart monitor, though her eyes were clenched shut and her breathing was still too heavy. Soon, the scientists realized that there were some things that Nadiya simply couldn't bear.

Her eyes had been closed, but she still recognized what they were about to do when the aide tied a thick elastic band above her elbow, and then cleaned the area with a cold alcohol swab.

Nadiya jerked her arm away, burying herself into Vincent's chest, shaking.

"This is ridiculous!" the scientist cried, batting Aidan away, who was not pleased by how his sister had been frightened out of her wits. "One blood test, that's all I ask!"

"Can you promise that this will be the last needle she will have to endure then?" Vincent asked.

The scientist threw up his hands. "No, I cannot! Now give her to me. We'll strap her down if we have to."

Vincent scowled, but lifted her from the white bed and held her tightly. Nadiya seemed to know what he was doing and struggled, but he tightened his grip until she was stilled. "Do it now."

Nadiya didn't give up, but her attempts were pitifully weak. The drug was taking its toll on her already. She was crying when she looked up at Vincent, her eyes showing hurt from betrayal that made Vincent feel as if he'd been stabbed.

"Quickly!" Vincent hissed.

The nurse went up to where Vincent held her and kneeled, the syringe bared in her hand. Slowly she eased Nadiya's arm from Vincent's grip and swabbed the inside of her elbow with alcohol again. Nadiya buried her head in Vincent's chest, gasping sharply as the needle found its way into her vein.

Aidan blanched noticeably as the syringe filled rapidly with dark red blood.

Nadiya went limp as the needle was pulled from her arm, trembling weakly. He gently laid her back down on the bed and held her hand.

"You did well, little one."

Nadiya drifted into a drugged slumber minutes later, and then the blood came back from the analysis labs.

Aidan was at Vincent's side, bracing himself for the worst.

* * *

A/N: You have to believe that being raised by Hojo would do something to a child. Sorry if I made it unbearable, though. I was feeling maniacally depressed.

Anyway, sorry for the delay. I had a horrible combination of writer's block and homework. I was forced to write a letter of recomendation for a letter that I would not recommend if my life depended on it. Man, I hated that book...

Thanks for bearing with this crap. I promsie it will get better soon.


	6. Remnants of Trouble

Everglow: Chapter Six

Verian stood with his head down, droplets of rain falling from the wide brim of his hat without touching his face. The rain couldn't permeate the fabric of his plain, brown cloak even though he could feel the force of the droplets increase over time. He sighed restlessly, rolling his neck a little, and shifted so that his opposite foot was resting on the wall of the hospital, and then leaned back and relaxed.

He had time to spare. Nadiya wasn't emerging any time soon, anyway.

In his gloved hands, he played with a small silver locket in the shape of a heart, the chain that hung from his palm rustling softly as the pendant itself rotated. The elaborate carvings were dulled, as many hands had passed over them, caressing the graceful artistry. The silver was tarnished, its decay showing through the black that its ore was true.

_Gloria Dawn._

The name of the woman came to him frequently, sometimes in anger, others in frustration. He barely thought on the golden hair that spilled elegantly to her waist, or the large, expressive sapphire eyes. Even more precious than her physical beauty was her kindness, her sweet, innocent spirit, her undying faith in her wayward husband…

The hand clenched around the locket in near violence.

He cared for none of these except for the final trait.

Her everlasting hope.

He cursed his timing with his every breath. Had he been a few years earlier, there would have been no obstacle. Gloria Dawn was his by right, and laws that this land couldn't fathom had bound her to him.

"Hey, so you decided to show up?"

Verian raised his head to make out the figure of a young man through the sheets of silver rain. His comrade had taken special care to disguise himself as well. It wouldn't be to their advantage for the workers to see the unmistakable silver hair that fell to the man's chin. Thin lips were curled into a childish, and yet cruel, smile. His voice was playful, but Verian had long ago learned to identify the subtle tones of malice in that voice.

"Kadaj," Verian greeted curtly.

The other nodded in reply. "So Aralyn's little brats are here?"

Verian's blood burned at that name. That was not the name she had been given at birth. Perhaps something as small as a name had changed her from the brilliant woman she had been destined to become.

Aralyn was not the name for a queen, an empress of the greatest empire ever to be built.

"Her name is Gloria Dawn," Verian hissed through clenched teeth.

Kadaj simply shrugged, throwing his head back and rolling his eyes, clearly indicating that he was tired of this insistence on something as small and insignificant as a name. "Whatever. Do you have it?"

Verian held up the locket, not caring that the rain pelted the exquisite carvings and frail gem work. "Here it is."

Kadaj smirked. "Well, let's get this started!"

* * *

A/N: Here we reach a point where it would _really_ help if you had read Broken Wings. However, to spare those of you who don't find the thought of reading it very appealing (I'll be the first to admit that it is a bit of a daunting read...), and to be fair and open minded on the issue, I propose this compromise: I can work on a synopsis of Broken Wings that I am hoping will be just over a thousand words. (I tend to elongate even the summaries, so no promises) I will post this **_as the last chapter of Broken Wings and NOT in this story. _**Would this interest anyone? I really don't want to go back and review...I want to move onward!!...so this is really the best I can offer for you newbies. (I honestly love you guys, and am not trying to torture you, I promise.)

But, as I always say, but never out of sheer habit and always from the bottom of my heart, I thank you infinitely for the reviews. It's the support that has pushed me this far. I feel inadequate for the praise I receive, but I am glad to have satsified you.


	7. Familiar Embrace

Everglow - Chapter Seven

Nadiya wasn't sure what was happening to her.

The lights, the stainless steel glinting, the straps around her wrists were all painfully familiar. Panic flowed through her body, causing her thin form to shiver in fright. Maybe that was why she couldn't see clearly. Or maybe it was the funny smelling gas they gave her.

She felt the constant tug at her consciousness, but she didn't want to go to sleep. Her body felt heavy, like she was sinking into the sheets. It tingled lightly to move her fingers even the smallest bit. There was something in her blood, she reasoned. That's why it felt so funny to move. Vincent's hand was still clenching hers, but she could barely tell. As time went on, she lost all feeling in her hand, and it made no difference if he was still there or not.

It was uncomfortable, but not overpoweringly so. She still remained as tense and rigid as a board, instinct learned from long years under the lights telling her that she was anything but safe.

One moment she had been gazing at the white of the hospital room, and then it was if someone had thrown a black sheet over her, muffling her sight and hearing instantaneously.

But she wasn't in the dark for long. There was a light, but this one was softer, gentler.

_Oh, my baby…my little girl…_ Hands, cool and comforting stroked her cheek, wet droplets falling to her face. She wanted to tell the soft voice not to cry, that she would be all right, but she was as mute as she had been all her life.

She couldn't see this angel, but the voice was so soft and soothing that she couldn't resist. She snuggled up against the figure to be closer to the woman's living warmth. Nadiya was embraced, and the woman was rocking her gently, singing a soft lullaby in an angel's voice.

She didn't care what the doctors did to her anymore, as long as it meant that she could stay here.

* * *

It had been determined that Nadiya's crisis had passed, and her vitals were stable enough for her to be taken to a normal bed instead on under a thousand monitors on a cold, steel table. She looked so small in the bed, her silver hair spread out on the white pillow like spilled moonlight, her wings extending from her curled body. She seemed to be at peace, and her breathing was smooth and regular.

Aidan had refused to leave his sister, so another bed had been pulled up beside Nadiya's, allowing the twins to remain together. The little boy had fallen asleep soon after too, after many protests that he wasn't tired.

Vincent stared out the window and, not for the first time since meeting the twins, wondered where their father was.

His troubled thoughts were interrupted by a small, timid knock. A woman pushed the door open a crack. "They are asleep?" a light, young, feminine voice asked.

Vincent voiced his affirmative by simply saying nothing.

The nurse that entered could not possibly have been over twenty years of age. Waist length blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, the ends curled elegantly, but still managing to look youthful. She was a rather petite woman, standing a good two feet shorter than Vincent. Her slim body was clad in the simple white dress that was the symbol of her profession, the skirt ending just past her knees. She lifted a pair of simple, oval glasses from her eyes and let them dangle on a emerald chain. Vincent noted that her eyes were the same color; a deep, expressive jade flecked with gold.

She smiled kindly, but soon turned her attention to the children. She sighed deeply, sadly, as she knelt by Nadiya, taking her pulse in slender fingers. "The poor child…"

Vincent arced an eyebrow. "You must know of their heritage."

The nurse softly brushed a stray strand of Nadiya's hair from her eyes and then stood. "Yes," she said. Then, her eyes sparkling, she extended a hand toward Vincent. "I'm Vivian. It's nice to meet you!"

Vincent was unaccustomed to being approached with such boldness, and he struggled to remember the last time a hand had been offered to him. Slowly, he extended his human hand, but shook only briefly, and withdrew immediately after finding that her grip was steady and firm.

"So you are the one that found them?" she asked as she went back to Nadiya's IV, checking the fluids in the plastic bag that hovered far above the child's head.

"Yes," Vincent responded simply.

"Will you continue to care for them?"

"Only until I can find their father."

Vivian looked back and smiled brilliantly at him. "You think he lives?"

Vincent returned his gaze to the horizon. "Who can say? Perhaps, perhaps not."

Vivian hummed softly. "I'm glad you still have faith." She continued to gently examine Nadiya, and then moved to little Aidan, who was too exhausted to know or care about the gentle hands that surveyed his body. "He must be so proud. Such beautiful children…" She was now taking Aidan's blood pressure, but he didn't even stir as the fabric tightened. "A strong, vibrant boy and a radiant daughter…what more could a father ask for?"

Vincent gave a small, wry smile. He had often imagined the General's response to the news that, contrary to his belief, his children were alive.

What kind of father would Sephiroth prove to be? The question occupied his mind so that he heard no more of Vivian's soft, encouraging chatter.

But he was glad that there was someone who would accept the children for who they were.

* * *

A/N: As my dear friend informed me, it has been a while. Please accept my apologies for having the worst writer's block imaginable piled on top of mounds of homework. Tomorrow I have standardized testing, so I can't promise anything then. Know that I will be _wishing_ that I could write as I sit in an overcrowded room bored to tears.


	8. Sinister Revival

Everglow - Chapter Eight

The three men walked cautiously, their faces cloaked, the large metal box that one of them carried carefully concealed beneath a long, sweeping cloak. Their epically slow pace faded even more as they carefully opened the heavy wooden doors of the chapel with gloved hands. They jumped alarmingly as a small, breathy creak emanated from the ancient rusted hinges, echoing in the spacious stone building within.

They knew that a Soldier's hearing could detect sounds that no human ears could.

They waited for minutes, straining their hearing to see if they had alerted anyone to their presence, but all was still. They began their creeping pace again, closing the door behind them and silently sliding a thick metal bar between the handles so no other could enter.

Unfortunately, that also meant that they wouldn't be able to get out if something went wrong.

The man with the box shuddered as he realized what it was that his colleagues wanted him to do. His small, beady black eyes were wide; sweat dripping from his forehead, blotching the fabric that covered his face. The other two, who were much bigger and stronger, but no less afraid, tilted their heads harshly. The signal was clear.

_Get a move on._

Trembling, the smaller man peeked around the corner, trying to suck in his deep breaths as silently as he could. He stayed with only the barest fraction of his eye looking toward the destination; his body tense and rigid, ready to run at the slightest provocation.

"He's…he's not there," was the relieved verdict.

One of the bigger men grunted in approval, but the other slammed a hand over his comrade's mouth. "Are there…?" he still whispered, afraid that their fear might be lurking in the shadows, evading their fallible human eyes.

"Yeah," the littler man said. "Feathers on the water. He's already visited today."

Only then did the men take off their masks.

The two taller men turned out to be identical twins, both sharing the same sharp, jagged features and beady, cruel black eyes. Black hair fell to their jaws, framing the thin, pale faces. Their hands, though gloved, were thin and bony; their bodies lean but muscled. They walked with an intimidating grace, and held their heads high, their shoulders back, carrying themselves with pride and purpose.

"D-Do we r-really h-have t-to…?"

The twins stared at the smaller professor. He was far too thin to be healthy, his white lab coat swallowing his features entirely. Thick, black glasses rested on a sharp nose, a white crack splitting the left lens into two unequal halves. "Yes, Dr. Malv, unless you want to offer yourself as a replacement."

The man squeaked, picking up his box and waddling quickly over to the pool of water. He quickly sifted through the contents, pulling out sterile, shining steel tools, scalpels, syringes, and a pair of plastic gloves, which he snapped over his thin hands.

The twins waded into the water until the level reached their knees, the ripples disturbing the serenity of the mirror-like surface. They observed the black feathers floating on the water a ways off and nodded in approval.

"D-Do you think h-he'll be back?" Dr Malv stuttered.

One of the twins gave a casual shrug. "Better hurry, then."

The other twin, responding to his brother's command, leapt into the water. Feathers scattered on the surface, gliding away like tiny sailboats tossed by a maelstrom. The man soon disappeared from view as he delved deeper, not caring how he profaned this sacred pool.

He emerged soon after, his prize tightly clenched in his hands.

A young woman in her mid to late twenties lay limp against his chest. Her skin was marble white, glistening with water like a statuette in the rain. Shining droplets clung to her long eyelashes, making her face shine ethereally, even though her legendarily enchanting eyes were forever sealed in death. Long, golden hair fell like a stream to the water's surface, waving with the gentle coaxing of the clear waters. "This is Aralyn?" the twin asked, offering the body to his twin that stood on the shore.

Dr. Malv straightened his glasses. "How long has she been dead?"

"Months, maybe even a year," the second twin answered as he took the frail body from his brother, handling the beautiful maiden with harshness and abruptness that defiled her grace and gentleness, even as she laid in the gray shadow of death.

"The how come she hasn't…you know…"

"Decayed? This was Aerith's last gift to Sephiroth, that he would never have to see her body ravaged." The twin threw the corpse to the ground in front of Dr. Malv. "Now do your job, and do it right. He wants her unscathed."

Dr. Malv adjusted the body so that the woman lay on her back. "May as well do this while she's dead so she won't struggle." With only that introduction to his work, he took the small blade and plunged it far into the soft flesh of Aralyn's arm, cutting carefully, but deeply and quickly. There was little blood; it had stopped flowing with her heart's failure.

One of the twins pulled a small metal device that looked like a computer chip and handed it to the doctor, as the man's hands were currently busy holding the incision open. "We will need to weld it to the bone."

"I know that, now give it here."

The job was done quickly, all three fearing the consequences of taking more time to do the job more thoroughly. Sephiroth could return at any moment.

The stitches were large, messy, and unevenly spaced, holes from where the needle had missed the target dotting her arm. No one really cared; they could lather it with ointments when they were in a safer position.

"Ready?" Dr. Malv asked, readying a large syringe filled with a sickly green liquid.

The twins nodded, and one knelt by Aralyn's head, gripping her firmly by the shoulders and pressing her into the ground. The other took her ankles, securing them with an iron grip.

"Hang on…"

The men pressed with all their weight. Dr. Malv jammed the needle into the exposed jugular vein in her thin, pale neck, forcing the liquid into her bloodstream, though some seeped out through the puncture wound when he jerked the syringe back.

The effect was almost immediate.

Aralyn's eyes shot open, and horrific, pained screams rent the serenity of the temple.

* * *

A/N: I'm not going to say anything. Only that it killed me not to tell you guys this was coming...


	9. In Memoriam

Everglow - Chapter Nine

"Rufus would like to speak with you, sir."

Vincent grimaced. He knew this had been coming. "I'm not leaving the children, lest your scientists get some new ideas."

The tall, lanky, redheaded nurse pursed her lips in annoyance. "So I am to tell him that you refuse?"

"Yes." It was that simple, and Vincent didn't see why they were complicating things.

"He won't like that," the nurse attempted.

"I assumed that much."

"He might get mad. He'll send the Turks…"

Vincent turned and stared the woman in the eyes. She shirked away, not bothering to hide her fright as she saw the blood red eyes. "I _am_ a Turk."

He could tell she didn't believe this. His dark black clothing and the long, tattered crimson cape were a far cry from the smart and pressed suits of the Turks. He remembered the rule that a man's hair couldn't fall past the jaw line; something about looking professional. He broke that rule also.

"Right…I'll…tell him that."

He was reminded once again of how much he hated this place.

The original Shinra building was currently in ruins, and it would be a stroke of unbelievable luck to find so much as a stapler intact after the explosion. Though this wasn't the building that Vincent had served in for years, it represented the same thing, and was even modeled to look almost identical to the original, with few exceptions.

He returned to his chair in the corner, sitting and staring out the window into the thick smog that enveloped Midgar and Edge for a long time before he noticed the pair of wide green eyes peering at him.

"You're awake," Vincent said to the still drowsy Nadiya. She blinked slowly, and then used her arms to push herself into a position where she leaned against the pillows. She tilted her head slightly to one side, looking inquisitive.

"Are you feeling all right?"

Nadiya smiled gently, nodding her head, her two silver braids bobbing against her shoulders. To display her newfound strength, she pushed the covers from her body and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

Vincent pushed her back down. "Not yet."

She frowned, but wriggled back into the blankets, laying on her back and looking up at Vincent. He shook his head in a gentle scold and walked back to his chair.

Nadiya raised both hands above her head and stretched her body out vertically except for her wing, which was unfurled to full length perpendicular to her body. She yawned, letting out a soft sigh, as if awakening from a long and refreshing slumber.

Aidan was tickled into wakefulness by the passing of the light feathers across his body. The white appendage had covered his entire torso and the lower half of his face as she had stretched. "Nadi," he moaned, rubbing his eyes. Deciding that he wouldn't get to sleep any more, he sat up, crossing his legs.

"So, what now?" Aidan asked Vincent.

The gunman pondered the question for a while. "Do you have any desire of meeting Rufus Shinra?"

Aidan's face scrunched in confusion. "Who's he?"

"Head Executive of Shinra."

"What does that mean?"

Vincent decided the subject wasn't worth pursuing. "Vivian's shift begins in an hour or so. Maybe she'll have something for you to do while your sister is examined."

"I'm not going anywhere without Nadiya!" Aidan insisted, crossing his arms across his chest. "I'm not gonna let them take her again."

"Suit yourself," Vincent said calmly.

Aidan pouted. Clearly he had wanted a fight, or some other way to vent. Vincent didn't really blame him. He'd been cooped up in a laboratory all day, probably haunted by memories that Vincent couldn't even fathom, and scared to death for his sister. He could tell by the boy's tense form that Aidan was just waiting for a repeat of whatever had been done to him in Hojo's care.

The boy turned onto his stomach, holding his head in his hands. "So who's Vivian?"

"She's a nurse who cared for Nadiya. She's taken quite a liking to you two."

Aidan was murmuring, clearly not wishing to affiliate with anyone in this building.

"Then find some other way to entertain yourself."

It wasn't too long of a wait before Vivian arrived, as promised. She peered her head in and smiled brightly at the children. "Good morning!" she chirped.

Nadiya seemed to enjoy the greeting, Aidan didn't.

But Vivian's smile dimmed as she looked at Vincent. "I'm afraid Rufus hasn't left room for negotiations. You're to meet him now."

Vincent was about to rebuke her, but she added, softly, "He's brought Avalanche…they're here now."

That was a card that Vincent hadn't expected to be played. He remembered vividly the night in Aralyn's sacred glade where Sephiroth and Avalanche had met. The results had deepened the hatred against Sephiroth and turned them against the innocent Aralyn, who had only tried to protect her husband. With such an aversion to both the parents, Vincent doubted that their children would be received well. "Do they know…?"

"Not as of yet. I think that's the ultimatum." She turned to the little ones, sitting beside Nadiya and warmly taking her hand. "I'll take care of the twins. It, hopefully, shouldn't be too long."

Still cursing his luck, Vincent nonetheless began down the halls.

* * *

Miranda was just putting a simple meal on the table for herself and her daughter when a soft, quiet knock sounded on her front door. Frowning, she gave her seven-month-old child a bottle to pacify the soft moaning for sustenance. Satisfied, but not for long, the little girl fell quiet even though her tiny lips were pulled into a pout. Miranda picked up the child and adjusted her so that the baby rested on her hip, and then, bouncing her child lightly, made her way to the door.

The man was tall, towering over her, and clearly could outmatch her in strength. He was clad entirely in black, sturdy looking leather, and an extraordinarily long and thin sword was sheathed across his back. Long, flowing silver hair fell to his waist, unbound and free to submit to the will of the gentle breeze. His bangs were peaked, and the silver hair surrounding his face trimmed at his jaw. His face was pale and his skin flawless, bright green eyes with catlike pupils peering at the woman and her child.

She knew this man from sight alone, and with a cry of alarm shut the door.

"Wait!" the man cried, pushing on the door to stop it from closing. "Wait, please, I'm not here to hurt you." As if to prove it, he took the sword from his back and threw it quite a ways away.

But Miranda knew that this Soldier needed no weapon other than his bare hands to end a life.

But she couldn't close the door.

She had heard the tales of Nibelheim, how this maddened Soldier had massacred the town. But this was not the look she expected the ruthless killer to have. His eyes were sad, mournful, and dark circles outlined them. His face was drawn, and while he still held himself tall, there was something different in his posture, a change wrought by terrible pain. He spoke softly, his voice dead, broken, and haunting.

"What is it you want?" she asked, whispering.

"Do you know Melya Calvin?"

Miranda set her baby out of the sight of the man, pushing her lightly and urging her to crawl away. "She was my sister."

"Where can I find her?" This weak, pleading voice didn't fit his strong, commanding appearance.

"She's been dead for years, sir."

The Soldier closed his eyes, his face smoothening as he suppressed his emotion. "How?" he inquired.

Miranda narrated as much as she knew slowly. "She worked at Shinra. One day she just…didn't come back."

"Did she mention…any twins?"

Miranda thought a while, straining to remember the last conversations had with her sister, and nodded. "She phoned in once. Had to stay at the hospital because one of them was in intensive care."

There was a flicker of an emotion that Miranda couldn't name through the General's eyes. "Did she say anything about if they lived or not?"

Miranda shook her head.

A tiny little head peaked from inside the doorway, peering at the darkly clad stranger. The little girl let out a coo and a smile before she was swept away by her mother again.

The baby seemed to have triggered something in the man. "What's it like…to be a parent?"

Miranda blinked. It was _impossible_ what he was implying.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you."

He turned to leave but Miranda called after him, seized by curiosity. "Aren't you…Sephiroth?"

He turned to look at her again. Slowly, and so quietly that Miranda almost couldn't hear, he whispered, "I was, once."

The breeze brought her only a few black feathers as a memento.

* * *


	10. Old Friends

Everglow - Chapter Ten

Vincent wasn't surprised to find Rufus casually seated in a large armchair at the head of a large table, slowly sipping a steaming drink from a mug. Papers were spread across the desk in front of him, some bearing official looking seals and ornate, unreadable signatures.

The members of Avalanche were seated beside him.

Cloud, Tifa, Cid, Barret, and even Yuffie had showed up for the occasion. None looked particularly pleased, but Vincent was happy to note that they all seemed confused and anxious to be enlightened.

"Take a seat," Rufus invited.

But Vincent decided to remain standing, his arms crossed. "We need to speak of this alone. This is not a matter they should be concerned in."

Yuffie took the hint that they were not wanted and sniffed indignantly. "Yeah, well, nice to see you too, Vincent." The young ninja rose to her feet and stomped over toward the stoic gunman, thrusting a finger to his chest and ramming his heart accusingly. "We've been worried sick about you and what do we get for it? Not a word! Not a single, solitary _syllable_ in months!"

Vincent's crimson eyes narrowed, and Yuffie's expression turned slightly queasy, but she didn't back down.

"Vincent," a gentler, more feminine voice interjected softly. "How have you been?"

Vincent raised his eyes at the simple question to meet Tifa's warm eyes. She smiled softly, but there was still tension. "I am well enough," he replied simply.

"What's this whole shindig about?" Cid grunted, his characteristic accent still heavy. "I was planning a nice flight here but then these Shinra dogs call and next thing I know…"

"It would be nice to get an explanation," Barret agreed in his deep, gruff voice. "Didn't get an explanation with that little traitor and now we're getting ourselves knee deep in some other muck."

Vincent's ruby eyes flared at the connotation, and he stepped forward, ready to rebuke the team for their misunderstanding, but Rufus decided to begin, perhaps to avoid a conflict. He pulled out a sheet of plain white paper and laid it in the center of the table for all to see.

Vincent immediately recognized the logo. It was identical to the one that had been painted on the helicopters that had raided Midgar the night he had found the twins. As he had been able to decipher in the dark, the logo was thin. A plain, white staff with a knobbed head stood erect, the thin wood grains painted in a light, shimmering silver. Thin ribbons of sea foam green and gold entwined themselves around the rod, threading both through and around it. At the bottom, there was some kind of inscription, but the conditions for the photograph had not been optimal, and so only a few letters could be deciphered from the shadows.

_Mor C m Te re Nov Ve it_

"What is it?" Yuffie asked.

"We are not sure, but I believe you recognize the insignia?"

All nodded gravely. Apparently Avalanche had been investigating the raid as well.

"I wanted everyone to be familiar with this," Rufus continued. "We believe this organization to be a greater threat than we can possibly fathom right now." He rotated in the chair and then gathered most of the papers from the tabletop. "Now, I will speak with Vincent in private, and then we'll return to finish other matters."

Cloud deliberately averted his eyes when Vincent tried to establish some semblance of a greeting. Scowling, Vincent turned abruptly and followed Rufus out.

The president of Shinra waited until they were in another room, the door closed, locked, with Turks posted outside, before he spoke.

"Vincent, I have some very disconcerting news."

* * *

Vivian sat in a large recliner with little Nadiya nestled in her lap, a book in front of the pair. Aidan sat close beside the nurse, balancing on the padded armrest, and peering over her elbow to look at the pages. The book was a novel, and while Vivian was sure that the children could read even the complex text on their own, they seemed to enjoy the sound of her voice as they were encircled in warm arms that held no threat to them at all.

When she came to the end of the chapter, she gently marked their place with a parchment strip decorated with pressed wildflowers. "That's enough for now." She set the book aside, but Nadiya didn't move. Vivian smiled and rocked the little girl, content to sit with them in blissful silence. Aidan even showed rare sentimentality and laid his head on her shoulder.

Vivian was much more relaxed now that the children had been allowed to change rooms. This place was more like a home, its warmth a sensation that the twins had been deprived of since birth.

Nadiya's room, which was where they sat now, was painted soft lavender with spring pansies and their golden dappled centers as a border dividing the room horizontally. The bed was also a misty purple, and was heaped with soft pillows and warm, heavy comforters. There was the chair they sat in, and a small round table holding a lamp next to it. The base of the lamp was a ceramic fairy, wings of clear plastic and fine glitter spread out happily as pale hands reached up, grasping the star that housed the light bulb. There was plenty of empty space on the misty gray-carpeted floor, a wardrobe next to the window, and a bookshelf at the bedside, filled to overflowing with the fanciful tales that Nadiya had come to delight in over the past few days.

Aidan's room, though themed differently, had been designed with no less care. All the ornate decorations made Vivian wonder if the children were to be permanently housed here. She wasn't sure what she thought of the idea.

Nadiya was still, her breathing smooth and even, and Vivian thought she had fallen asleep. She raised herself slowly to her feet and walked toward the bed, pulling down the covers in preparation to warmly cradle the child.

But Nadiya awoke with a start just as Vivian was about to lay her in the bed. She jolted, and Vivian knew that had she possessed a voice, she would have screamed in fright. Her eyes searched frantically for something. Aidan was at her side in a moment.

"Nadiya, what is it?"

She calmed within seconds, but the ferocity of her fright left both Vivian and Aidan stunned.

Slowly wriggling out of Vivian's grip, she walked toward her bookshelf and pulled down a blue crayon and a clean sheet of paper. Vivian noted how tightly her wings were pressed around her sides; a sign that she had learned was the outward manifestation of alarm.

"What was it, Sis?" Aidan asked.

Slowly, Nadiya pressed the crayon to the paper and began to write a single word in wobbling, childlike handwriting.

_Mother._

* * *

A/N: This can be taken a few different ways, no?

Yes, I am back from the dead. It took a while, too. Met Vincent, though. His coffin was next to mine. He says hello.

Next chapters should come quick, because they're all planned out. The only thing holding me back is the avaliability of our family's single computer.


	11. Forced Resurrection

Everglow - Chapter Eleven

She was in the dark.

In one way, it was a relief. Though she had always harbored a near paralyzing fear of the dark, the light that had penetrated her eyes had been excruciating, and any sanctuary from that couldn't be that bad.

She couldn't remember what she had been doing before that light, but she was quite sure that she hadn't been given a warning. She did remember, though, with vivid clarity, her captor's rough hands shoving the first bit of cloth they could spare (which she assumed was an old shirt by the smell) and the relief that had brought.

The hours that she spent in silent solitude were a struggle. What little memory she had retained seemed to stem from that one burst of light, continuing from then on, but her vision beyond that was veiled.

She remembered the cold, stale air, tinted with scents of acrid substances that she couldn't identify. Every now and again, a dark film was draped over her eyes, and solid metal restraints clamped around her neck, wrists, and ankles, as if she could have gone anywhere even if she had wanted to. She gathered that her captors had expected her to fight, but at the first, she couldn't manage to lift a finger. She was sure she was conscious, but every movement she made was impossible or physically draining. It had been a chore to breathe, as if she were inhaling thick syrup.

But it was a little better now. Someone had even given her a respirator to help her along. But as soon as she moved, the restraints became permanent, her skin so used to them that she hardly even felt them anymore.

Tiny spiders crawled up and down her spine as she heard the door open. Did the temperature just drop? Why was it so cold?

A voice reverberated through the chamber she was being held in, the way the sound echoed telling her that the room was both spacious and devoid of fabric. The scent became overpowering, and more acrid.

What was that dribbling down her arm? More importantly, why did it burn?

And where had she heard that voice? Her back arced as cold, clammy fingers ran down her arm.

She was suddenly very, very afraid.

She opened her mouth to speak, perhaps this was all just a misunderstanding, but her tongue felt like cotton in her mouth and her lips felt like lead. She managed a noise, at least, but it sounded like a breathy moan.

Another softer, more beautiful voice. It was a man, and he was screaming in fury. Heavy blows, fists ramming against a wall that would not break. Breaking, choking cries.

"Number Forty-Six." The man with the high, nasally voice called her. "Awake yet?"

She had been called that before. Was that her name? No…it was too foreign, she decided. Drained as she might be, she reasoned that her own name should sound more familiar.

Though said coldly, and clearly not meant to help, that line signaled for a memory to rise unbidden from her awakening mind.

She saw a small boy, clad in a hospital gown, a single black wing that was nearly too big for his thin body protruding from his back. Silver hair fell to his hips and his eyes were a bright emerald eyes made even more ethereal by the thin, catlike pupils.

_Sephiroth!_

The name sprang to her lips, unleashing a wave of emotions. Memories spilled like milk from an overturned bottle.

"Aralyn!" The call resounded, reverberating in the room.

The cold, bony hands drew the film from off her eyes, the harsh lights made only harsher by the white and silver surroundings. But the pain made her eyes water to the point where they flowed over, and she couldn't see.

"Give it up, Sephiroth. Even _you_ can't break through that."

Aralyn's blood froze. That was the voice she had lived in terror of since she was a little girl.

Her first sight was Sephiroth, and her heart leapt, but soon was stilled in shock. He was behind a wall; from the level of his waist to above his head had been carved out of the steel-enforced concrete. There was a layer of a clear material that allowed his unnaturally keen eyes to witness everything, doubtless with horrifying clarity. He rammed his fists in the wall, throwing all his weight into the attack, but the wall barely even reverberated.

When he saw that Aralyn was looking at him, he stopped, and gazed deep into her eyes. His eyes still tainted with fear and rage, he nonetheless placed a gloved hand flat on the window, reaching for her even though he knew it was impossible. He mouthed her name tenderly. His eyes were glassy.

"Do you believe me _now_, Sephiroth?"

* * *

A/N: It's purposely vague. Clarification to come in next chappy. Sorry about my choppy notes but my brother has a WoW addiction to fufill.


	12. Breaking Point

Everglow - Chapter Twelve

Sephiroth was immobile, the shock of seeing her alive paralyzing him. His heart beat quickly, and his breathing was rapid and shallow.

"I…" he stammered, looking into Aralyn's bright, living eyes. Her head lolled to one side for a second, still recovering from the massive amounts of sedatives she had been given. "But…you're dead…"

Hojo chuckled, an annoying sound, and walked over to the glass, tapping it playfully. "Are you watching, my dear specimen?" he taunted.

Back to Aralyn's side. There was something silver there – he placed it around her neck. Hojo looked back to make sure Sephiroth was still struggling against the window, then pulled harshly on a strap attached to the metal. Aralyn's back arched as she tried to gasp for air. Hojo let her hands free so they could claw her neck, attempting vainly to free it.

"No!" Sephiroth screamed.

Hojo did not release her for several minutes, until she had passed out and left him with no choice. There were marks on her pale neck, blood dripping from where the straps had frayed away her flesh.

Hojo rammed a syringe into her jugular, and Aralyn jolted awake, screaming. Sephiroth cried out in alarm and futilely tried to break through the glass that held him back from saving her.

"Is that real enough for you?" Hojo sneered. "Because if you still don't believe me, I can continue for as long as it takes…indefinitely, even."

"Stop! Please…just…"

Hojo withdrew the needle, not bothering to slow the trickle of blood that flowed from the wound. Aralyn's back arched again in reaction to the substance, and her breathing was almost out of control.

Hojo let Sephiroth feel the silence, let the shock roll over him in crippling waves.

"That poison," Hojo continued, speaking to the General, who was bent over, expression anguished, physically weakened and quite incapable of a reply, "has one antidote. I designed it myself. Naturally, I'm the only one that knows. In addition, I do not keep it in my lab; so don't even try to look. The second before she fades away, I will mix only the exact amount of antidote needed and administer it. We have put a tracking chip in her arm, which you will be unable to remove unless you carve out half of her arm and sever the wires that we welded to the marrow of her bone. You will not be escaping. We _will_ find her, and if you do manage to keep her away from our sight for too long, she will die and I can promise you," Hojo paused briefly for emphasis, "it is not a painless or rapid death."

Sephiroth was breathing just as heavy as Aralyn, and he was shaking even more. He opened his mouth many times, but closed it, unable to find the words. Hojo let the silence ring, letting him wallow in his agony.

"What is it you want of me?" Sephiroth whispered, finally understanding the reason behind Aralyn's revival.

* * *

A/N: This is the darkest chapter I've ever written. _I'm_ getting chills...and I wrote the thing!

Special thanks to Tehn, who helped with this chapter.

I promise the next few will be less...heart-wrenching? We have had a few in a row...time for a tea-break! Figuratively speaking, that is.


	13. Nadiya's Voice

Everglow - Chapter Thirteen

The twins had soon learned that every time Vivian stepped in the room, she had a gift for the children. The young nurse had been nothing short of mortified when she learned that the children could not identify things like sugar, swing-sets, or stuffed animals. Hojo had even twisted the true meaning of simple childhood pastimes nearly beyond recognition; Aidan had blanched and Nadiya had started crying when she had asked if he'd like to have some toys to play with. "Toy" and "play" were two words that Vivian quickly learned had to be avoided. She couldn't fathom what Hojo had shown them these words meant.

So she arrived more than twice a day, each time with a new wonder to unveil to the children. It was more than worth the little money she spent to see the surprise in their eyes as they explored things that every normal child knew since birth. She ached for the twins, feeling sorry for the brutal, unforgiving life they had been forced into.

Nadiya now skipped around in a short-sleeved, light lavender dress with flower petals embroidered in the translucent fabric that covered the original purple. A large, silk ribbon bow tied around her waist and the skirt was loose and light, allowing her to frolic about with little trouble. The back had been lovingly altered to accommodate her wings, and Vivian had bought purple ribbon to tie her silver braids up with.

In one hand, the little girl held a tiny wand, and in the other, a blue bottle of liquid that spilled as she ran. Nadiya ran barefoot in a small field in Shinra's botany department, dancing lithely as she explored the fine art of bubble blowing. He wide green eyes sparkled with delight at the floating spheres and the soft wetness they left when they brushed against her cheeks.

Aidan had been given a new outfit as well. He was now dressed in short jeans that fell just past his knees and a cherry red shirt that was loose enough to provide comfort for the active boy. His shoes were simple, and comfortable. It had been a lesson patiently administered for Vivian to guide his tiny fingers through the steps of tying the laces. Now, the bows on his shoes were sloppy, the loops vastly uneven and the loose ends sometimes catching under his feet as he ran, but to him they were beautiful, and so Vivian let it be.

Vivian was helping him experience his new toy, which had been a plain blue ball. She played a simple game of catch with him, and as she had expected, his reflexes were as finely tuned as his father's. He learned quickly, and showed strength and agility that was uncanny for such a young boy. If she threw it with all her strength, the boy would dart there and return back, ball in hand, with a grin on his face, in no time at all.

Vivian lay back against the soft grass, breathing out slowly. Aidan's stamina knew no end, and it was hard work to play on level with him. Aidan sensed her fatigue and ran over to her side, sitting patiently.

"Sorry, pal," Vivian panted. "You're just way too strong for me!" She smiled and ruffled his short, silky silver hair. "You really are your daddy's little man."

Aidan tilted his head to one side, confused, but helped Vivian to her feet. "Come on, Nadiya! Let's head back."

Responding obediently, the silver haired girl carefully capped her bottle of bubbles and ran toward Vivian as fast as her tiny legs would carry her, clutching the older woman's outstretched hand when she was close enough to do so. Smiling at the radiant children, she led them gently back to their rooms.

* * *

Vincent found Vivian and the children at a nearby park; the children perched on the bench while Vivian spoke with an ice cream vendor at a booth. Nodding in approval, she lifted Nadiya and pointed to a multicolored sign proclaiming their goods, explaining that she could have anything she wanted. The hefty man in the bubble-gum pink apron smiled kindly as she pointed one finger to an item, nodding his approval as he scooped the sweet treat into a polka-dotted bowl. He put the cup in her outstretched hands, and then Vivian released the girl, hefting Aidan onto her hip and repeating the same process.

Vincent noted that both of the children's silver hair was concealed carefully beneath hats.

He approached the girl, who was swinging her legs as she sat on the bench. She had chosen a single scoop of peppermint ice cream. "Are you enjoying it?" Vincent asked.

Nadiya broke out into a wide grin and nodded her head vigorously.

As Vivian pulled the required gil from her wallet, Vincent was given an opportunity to observe Aidan's choice. The boy had not been subtle, and had ordered a huge banana split with three scoops of ice cream, every sauce imaginable, nuts, and four cherries; one for each scoop and an extra to garnish the banana. The whole assembly was as wide as his face and nearly as deep.

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "You're going to finish that?"

Even the ambitious boy looked daunted as he eyed his creation. Shrugging, he set to work on it immediately.

"Anything you like, Vincent?" Vivian asked.

Vincent shook his head but she turned to the vendor anyway. "He'll have a scoop of double fudge ripple…with a cherry."

Vivian had turned to him, smiling brightly at her defiance. "I can't believe they've never had ice cream! I was practically raised on this stuff!" She took the bowl from the vendor and put it in Vincent's unwilling hands, digging out the extra money to pay for his share.

Keeping an eye on the children who were remaining on the bench, she sat at a small, circular table and pulled out a seat, gesturing for Vincent to join her. "How was the meeting?" she asked kindly.

Vincent kept his expression level. "Troubling news."

"About the children?"

Vincent nodded, but was unwilling to elaborate.

"Well, how about some good news then?" Vivian asked, her chipper tone lightening Vincent's dark aura that he unintentionally cast.

"I gave Nadiya some bubbles and taught Aidan to play catch. They were both so good for their check-up, and Aidan is as healthy as ever and there's no evidence of Nadiya's ailment returning."

Vincent nodded, not meaning to be unkind, but finding the news petty compared to the gravity of the situation of the children and their parents. It wasn't going to be easy to erase the bleak picture Rufus had illustrated for him.

"And, I haven't told her yet but," Vivian smiled and leaned close to his ear, eager to share her secret. "I have found a way to give Nadiya a voice," she whispered.

Vincent raised his head and a single eyebrow. "She's been mute since birth, Vivian," he said calmly.

Vivian blushed a vibrant red. Vincent was more confused than ever. "What?" he asked.

"You remembered my name!"

"Of course I…"

"But you've never called me that before!" she insisted. Hearing Aidan's voice, she raised her head to check on the children. Aidan was crouched in his seat, only half of his ice cream finished, groaning with what was doubtless the beginning of a harsh stomachache.

Vivian rose, gathering her light yellow shawl and draping it over her shoulders. "Come and see us tonight. At six, we're going out to dinner, and then I'll show you what I mean."

Vincent opened his mouth to make up some excuse but she interrupted him too quickly. "Oh, please come! You mean so much to the children! You have no idea what it would mean to Nadiya for you to share this with her."

Vincent closed his eyes and sighed softly. "At six, then," he agreed.

Vivian made her way toward the children, but stopped halfway back and called to him again. "You better eat your ice cream! A nice day like this is sure to melt it before long!" She winked once, and then gently comforted Aidan and pulled Nadiya to her feet.

Vincent stared at the soft brown rippled with darker fudge for a long time, and then, making sure that Vivian and the children were gone, began to eat the cold treat.

* * *

N/A: Is Vincent _cute_ or what? :3

And what about Nadiya's voice? suspenseful timpani roll

As for the punishing of the Hojo, I was thinking something along the lines of a meat-grinder. Slowly feed him in and then drizzle him with lemon juice. That's really gruesome but for what he's done...GAH. Whoever can stand the thought can eat the remains...UGH! Can you imagine the grease content? I LOVE my deep-fat-fried twinkies and even I'm disgusted!!


	14. Precious Gift

Everglow - Chapter Fourteen

Vivian had released Nadiya's flowing hair and brushed it until it shone, then pinned it up again. "Such a shame," Vivian sighed as she pinned a wayward lock into place. "Someday we won't have to do this, you'll see!" She nodded in approval and then went to a wall, where a plain blue backpack was hung on a hook.

The back of the backpack had been slit in two places, designed for Nadiya's wings to slip into, so she looked like a little school-girl with a backpack heavy with books. The straps had been padded, so they wouldn't cut into her shoulders, and thus could carry it for longer lengths of time, but it wasn't perfect. Nadiya was used to moving her wings, much as it came naturally for her to wiggle her toes. The girl had to learn to be still, because a quivering backpack might look only a little better than a pair of angel's wings. And the bag was small. Her soft, delicate wings had to be crammed into the sack via the slits, and though the girl never complained, Vivian could tell that it was the source of a lot of soreness and cramping.

It hurt her that she had to take such drastic measures, but what choice did they have? She consoled herself with the fact that the children would happily bear all this and much more for the things they were seeing.

Aidan was positioning a ball cap so that his hair was similarly hidden, then perched himself on his bed and began the slow process of tying his shoes. Vivian was proud to note that he was getting better every time.

"Now," she said, positioning Nadiya's wide rimmed hat on her head, "let's go have a good time."

Each of the children took a hand and obediently followed the nurse.

Their destination was only a couple of blocks away, and so Vivian had decided that they could walk. It was a cool, clear evening, the perfect temperature for a short journey.

"Vivian," Aidan said, looking up to the nurse. "Is Vincent coming?"

She smiled genuinely down at him. "I hope so, Aidan." She turned and squeezed Nadiya's hand, hoping she didn't feel left out. "You all right, sweetie?"

Nadiya smiled and nodded, sending a small tuft of silver hair from beneath the hat. They took a break to carefully tuck it back into place.

They entered the restaurant and waited an extra five minutes so they could be seated on the patio, which had a spectacular view of the city and the sunset. Vivian faithfully ordered a table for four, although she wasn't sure whether she could expect her dark friend or not.

A friendly waiter offered to take the children's hats and Nadiya's backpack, not waiting for a reply as he reached for them. Vivian cried out and smacked his hand away, the sound very harsh against the quiet chatter and soothing melodies in the background. "I mean, no," she said to the waiter, blushing scarlet. She smiled at him and the guests that had turned to look at the scene, not offering an explanation and hoping that she wouldn't have to give one.

The waiter nodded. "I didn't mean to hurt your children, ma'am. I'm sorry, I should have been more forward with my intentions."

This seemed to satisfy everyone, though a few still eyed Vivian and the children with suspicion.

The last thing they needed was an observer.

Fortunately, their attention was quickly averted elsewhere. It wasn't every day that a strong man dressed entirely in black with a tattered, flowing crimson cape and a three-barreled gun in plain sight came to eat.

"Vincent!" Aidan cried. "You came!" Nadiya was ever silent, but beamed brightly and clapped her small hands in delight.

Vincent did not comment, but took his seat beside the children and Vivian.

"Good evening," Vivian said kindly. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Good evening," Vincent returned.

"So," Vivian said, handing him a menu. "What'll it be?"

Vincent shook his head. "Nothing tonight, thank you."

"Stubborn," Vivian muttered, but gave the waiter their menus and their order.

While they waited for their meal, Vivian pulled out a rectangular package wrapped in soft blue paper and tied with white ribbon. "Nadiya," Vivian said softly. "This is for you."

Vincent was quite anxious to see how that small box could give her back her voice. To be honest, he had expected some experimental medical procedure, and had come prepared to rebuke her.

But no matter how advanced surgery had gotten these days, he still doubted that all the needed items (doctors and surgeons included) could fit into a box that size.

Nadiya looked inquisitively at her caretaker, and then teased the curled ribbon between her fingers, enjoying how it bounced and swayed. After a few moments, she handed it out to Vincent, as her pulling hadn't severed the ribbon and even still, prevented her from receiving her gift. Vincent ripped the ribbon casually and then handed the box back, letting her attack the paper.

The torn paper was discarded on her lap, and was in such a position that no one could see over the barrier. She blushed, not wanting to seem ungrateful, and tilted her head to one side, confused, looking up to Vivian for clarification. She laughed softly. "Vincent will tell you," Vivian said, beaming brightly.

The girl slid off her seat and padded over to Vincent, setting the thick and surprisingly heavy tome on his lap so that it was both backwards and upside down to his sight. He righted the book and read hesitating for a long time before stating his verdict. "…A dictionary of sign language."

This meant nothing to Nadiya or Aidan, but they were close beside him, eager to learn.

Vincent opened the book to a random page and held it so Nadiya could see. Inside were thousands of illustrations of hands in different positions, some showing multiple steps illustrating movement. "This will teach you to speak with your hands, Nadiya." He pointed to a picture and explained. "There is a gesture for every one of our words; you just have to learn it."

Nadiya was still for a long time, and droplets appeared on the still open page. When she regained herself, she righted and threw herself at Vivian, latching around her neck and hugging her with all her strength. She was crying freely, but smiling as well, overwhelmed by this precious gift.

Vincent couldn't have been more pleased. A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"We'll all learn together," Vivian promised. "Aidan and you and I." She turned to Vincent and smiled. "And maybe Vincent will join us."

Her shining eyes turned to the dark man, now pleading. Vincent didn't wait a moment before nodding.

He was the next recipient of Nadiya's fierce hug. He felt his shoulders soak through quickly, but he didn't mind. He didn't move his arms to embrace her in return, but let her cling to him for as long as she chose.

But in her enthusiastic leaping, her hat had fallen off, her hairpins loosened, allowing silver hair to spill freely down her back, and it wasn't even a minute before someone had noticed.

* * *

A/N: So it's a happy chapter...until the end. Don't worry, next chappy will be up Monday because it's my birthday and that gives me special computer privlages.


	15. Fly

Everglow - Chapter Fifteen

Vincent had reacted quickly, but not quickly enough. Almost violently, he moved Nadiya under his cloak, shielding her tell-tale silver hair and mako eyes. But he couldn't stop the cry from being sounded.

"What _is_ that thing?" a nameless, faceless person shrieked. There was fear, naturally, the children resembled their father too much for that to be ignored, but even more, was sheer revulsion.

"Heya, now. Let's all play nice!"

Vincent scowled, even though that he knew the voice was there to help. As expected, a tall, lanky redhead emerged from the corner, followed by another darker, bulkier man. The redhead casually shouldered his baton, which stood out as a threatening silver beacon against the floral print of his shirt, that alone testifying to his status as a Turk just as well as the smart, crisp blue suits would have.

So they hadn't been able to escape Shinra after all.

"Play it cool now, guys. It's all under control."

"Let me see that…_thing_!" The voice sounded again, the demand soon echoed by others. "Perhaps I saw wrong but that little one looked an awful lot like…"

"Shinra business!" the dark man, Rude, interjected in a loud, commanding and deep voice.

"_Shinra's making another Sephiroth!"_

Even the light-hearted Reno sobered, readying their batons, standing prepared to fight.

"That's not true!" Reno insisted, but it was too late. The rumor had been started.

"Nadiya," Vincent murmured softly, kneeling down, but still covering the girl with his cloak. He looked her squarely in her eyes, managed to see past the fear and confusion to latch onto some inner part of her mind. "It's no longer safe. Slip off your backpack.

Nadiya stood still, then shook her head violently, realizing what it was that Vincent was asking. Vincent grimaced, knowing that they didn't have time to care right now. He had to do what would save her life, even if he didn't like it.

Seizing the pack with his clawed hand, he ripped the cloth from her shoulders, stray feathers that she had shed into the backpack falling to the ground as her freed wings unfurled. He heard the gasps of the crowd, but didn't care; the time for subtleties was past.

"Fly!" he commanded, and then threw her from the balcony.

Had Nadiya possessed a voice, Vincent knew that she would have screamed. He saw the terror in his eyes, and the human in him screamed, but the Turk remained silent and cold.

He didn't wait a second longer than the time it took for him to hiss, "Run!" to Vivian and Aidan before he too threw himself from the balcony.

Nadiya was falling, her body like a pale leaf, weak and powerless against the powers of gravity and wind. She was trying to extend her wings, but the attempts were futile. She couldn't catch the breeze, and her efforts only succeeded to thrash her about even more.

Vincent kicked off the building, increasing his speed. By the time he caught up with the flailing girl, it was not human hands that caught her.

Chaos' wings were extended as far as they could, flapping in smooth, powerful strokes that increased their speed until the wind made Nadiya's hair into perfect silver whips. Red streaked her face, but she clung, trustingly, to the demon that grappled onto her even though the long, curved claws dug deeper into Nadiya's flesh than Vincent would have liked.

There was a warm liquid that made its way down Chaos's fingers. Bright droplets fell to the earth below. He had thought he had heard a gunshot, but in the confusion, he had set it aside.

A deep wound bled dark red down the perfect, white feathers in her right wing. She had been hit.

* * *

Aidan was sick with worry. He had heard the gunshot and seen the burst of lifeblood from his sister before she had fallen. Vivian would not let him look over the edge of the railing, afraid that he would find his sister's body broken and lifeless, fifty floors below him. She, too, was terrified to look.

The Turks had such a hard time restraining the crowd that reinforcements had to be called. Surrounded by a small army, they had managed to make it to a small, black car.

Aidan curled up in the corner, resisting Vivian's gentle attempts at buckling him up. He curled up around the book of sign language, holding it close to him, his small shoulders shivering. Vivian tried to console him, but Aidan yelled in protest, shielding himself from her, dealing with his emotions alone.

Tseng and Elena were in the front of the vehicle, both straight backed and proud, their guns loaded and ready in their laps. No one spoke until Elena had a quick and muted conversation on a cell phone.

"Your sister is fine," she said, her tone stiff and business-like. "A little scratched up, but nothing that a little bandaging won't heal."

"Her wing?" the boy asked weakly, raising his head.

"They haven't been able to assess the damage fully. She may have to have it amputated."

"She…she loves those wings…" His voice was breaking, and it was hard for Vivian to bear the way they spoke with such indifference to a child who needed reassurance and love. This time, Aidan let Vivian hold him close, whispering soothing messages into the child's ear.

He may have been the son of Sephiroth, but he was still only a child.

"Take them to the hideout," Elena continued, addressing Tseng. "Our orders are to shield them for twenty-four hours. Nadiya's being held in lockdown as well."

"What?" Vivian asked. "What happened?"

"Avalanche heard the rumor," Tseng said, clearly guessing, but by Elena's face they knew he had guessed right. "It's just a precaution, but we don't want any risks."

"You think they'd _murder_ these children?" Vivian shouted in horror, holding Aidan closer to her.

"No. But we do our job thoroughly."

* * *

A/N: This chapter is brought to you by flutist.girl's NEW PERSONAL LAPTOP! This means that I can write at my leisure and am unrestricted by time limits. Now I just have to get used to MicrosoftOffice 2007...dang, that thing is way too simple for me.

Sorry about the delay, but I was setting up my computer so I could write more sooner. :D


	16. Sign Language and Antibiotics

Everglow - Chapter Sixteen

After realizing very quickly that it was worse than useless to try to separate the twins, the Turks had grudgingly allowed Aidan and Vivian into the facility. To get there, they had to be transported from the gray, featureless shelter carved into the side of a small hill via a seemingly ordinary car. It was anything but. The engine was silent, the exterior reinforced with specially engineered metal that would repel gunfire and sonar waves. They had been seated in the center of the car, clad in bulletproof jackets, with a small militia of Turks surrounding them on all sides.

They could _not_ be doing all this to protect them from Avalanche. They were, after all, heroes, and Vivian could not fathom that they would harm these children for any reason.

But it frightened her even more to think of what they were, in reality, being shielded against.

Nadiya's wing had been bound, but as the hospitals were not the safest places in the Shinra building, her healthcare had been put on hold. Vivian was given rudimentary supplies and the instruction to use any methods she saw fit, but she was a nurse, and one who had never experienced those with the cells of Jenova.

But the bleeding had stopped, and there was no bullet to remove. It had cut cleanly through her wing. She shuddered every time it was touched in the lightest way, and Vivian was worried. Her body was already beginning to heal, no doubt due to the cells she had inherited from her father, but the skin around it was enflamed and extraordinarily tender. She held her wing away from her body, as if were on fire and she was trying to distance herself from the pain.

Would Nadiya become a one-winged-angel too? Vivian couldn't bear the thought and neither, it seemed, could the siblings. Even the anesthetics couldn't dull the internal agony of an amputation.

Nadiya held her face firm, but now and then, an occasional tear leaked from those wide, innocent eyes. She was trying her hardest to be strong. Aidan helped her, but he too was beginning to falter.

Vincent hadn't returned since they had requested him to help to sate the rightfully concerned Avalanche.

To keep their spirits up, they opened the book of sign language and began to repeat the new motions with their hands.

"A…B…C…"

* * *

Vincent didn't care that this room was off limits, or that he _should_ be consoling Avalanche at the moment. One blow with Cerberus was enough to disable the lock; in fact, one bullet would have been sufficient. Ignoring the brightly colored biohazard warnings, he strode confidently into the medical supply room.

The lights were dim, probably to protect the contents within the darker tinted bottles. There were no windows, though he did not miss the daylight, so this did not bother him. What little illumination he received was from a dark red light; more of an aura or glow than an actual light.

Shelf upon shelf was lined with bottles, salves, pills, hazardous waste bins, vials of mako that glowed a threatening green against the dark crimson of the room, and instruments that Vincent could not name. He was slightly amused to see that the names of the substances sometimes entirely encircled the bottles that held them; sometimes, they were so long that the printed sticker overlapped itself, veiling the last half of the word.

He didn't know or care what these were, but he didn't have to be a doctor to recognize the things he needed.

The dead give-away had actually been the color, which, even against the red, was a bright, bubble-gum pink. The second clue had been that it was in powdered form, the bottom of the bottle dusted lightly with the substance, leaving room for the appropriate amount of water to be added. He was very familiar with this stuff; it had littered the Seventh Heaven when little Marlene herself had suffered from a minor infection.

He examined the label to decipher that, while several long and unpronounceable words had been printed before and after the word he read, it was what he was looking for.

_Penicillin._

The whole shelf seemed to be dedicated to antibiotics, and Vincent was surprised to find similar powders in different colors, the labels proudly proclaiming "New and improved flavor!". While he doubted that it was really as fantastic as it was made out to be, he took a few bottles of varying colors. If nothing else, Nadiya could enjoy a little variety to ease the monotony of the treatment.

And then there were injections.

At first he shied away from those, remembering how Nadiya hated the syringes and, even if she didn't, how tender the area around her wound was. It would be excruciating in more ways than one for it to be administered…

But he knew that Nadiya would pay that price to keep her beloved wing. He took several, praying that Vivian could administer it swiftly.

No one stopped him as he walked through the halls, his expression stoic and almost dangerous, but he was the source of many quizzical looks. Against the blood red cloak and the black of his attire, bottles of bright pink, neon blue, lime green, fluorescent yellow, and hunter's orange looked so odd, far too bright for this dark and brooding man.

But his deadly glare silenced the laughter out of any onlookers.

* * *

A/N: I am so...so...sosososoSO sorry! This chapter has been writen for _days_ and I am thoroughly ashamed. (headwhackonspikyanvil) Here's the deal. I have a laptop, which should make things go faster, right? Well, wrong. I have three weeks of school left and have thus been emerged into the end-of-year curriculum-crunch. I have homework like you couldn't believe. And for those of you who may happen to attend my school, I am busting my generous behind to finish the text for the yearbook because no one else will. So...writing will be slow for the next few weeks. I'm so sorry, but I'll promise I'll do as much as I can...however little that may be. Sorry! (offers cookies) June 5th is my day of freedom. Actually, homework should cease around the 1st, because my teachers aren't psycho enough to give me homework during Finals.

Next chapter will be...what's the word I'm looking for?...cute? sappy? yeah. And may include some Sephy.

I love Sephy...

And um...I have another story up. Won't be updated nearly as often as Everglow and it too is on hold but...


	17. Right and Wrong

Everglow - Chapter Seventeen

Tifa found Vincent ducking out of a door, closing it securely behind him. "Hello," she said softly.

Vincent raised his head and looked her in the eye. She couldn't tell what he was thinking or feeling, his expression was too carefully guarded. "What were you doing in there?" she asked, not backing away.

His eyes narrowed. "Don't we have to be somewhere?"

"You're the one who was late," Tifa reminded him.

"Well then, let's go." She didn't miss how he deliberately avoided looking at the door, closing the subject behind iron bars. Tifa sighed softly and followed.

"Is everyone else here?" he asked just as they reached the doors to their destination.

"I left the kids behind, but other than them, yes."

"Hmm." The sound was dark, but once again, betraying no emotion.

They entered in the middle of what sounded to be a very animated and fiery argument, but the sound ceased as Vincent entered. "Well, heya Vince," Yuffie said after a moment. "What have _you_ been up to?"

Vincent didn't reply and took a seat. "Why are you here?" he asked solemnly.

"Well, gee, things have been a bit odd lately, Vinny," Yuffie said, her voice only a little sarcastic. "Thought we'd see what was up."

"You're here because of the rumor, aren't you?"

"Well, duh!" Yuffie seemed insulted that he hadn't said it before. "Not every day that you learn that…"

"I've assured them," Rufus interjected, "that Shinra doesn't own the child, not do I have any intention of raising another Sephiroth. I learned my lesson the first time."

True enough. But he hadn't affirmed or denied that the children were actually here. He wondered if Avalanche saw this. By the suspicious glint in Cloud's eyes, he assumed that it was probably the case.

"Vincent!"

He turned behind him to find Vivian in the doorway, out of breath. "Vincent, have you seen…?" She stopped abruptly, realizing that she was speaking in the presence of Avalanche. "Oh…hello! I'm Vivian." The greeting was forced, and everyone could tell.

"They got away?" Vincent asked, voice betraying emotion for the first time. It was worry. Discreetly, he let his eyes wander about the room. If they weren't with Vivian, he knew that it was because Aidan had found a threat to his sister. They had to be here.

He saw a small glint of emerald and silver in the darkness of the vent before it disappeared, and behind a couch he saw a smaller shadow shift. Yes, they were present, and hanging on to every word they said.

"Will you…tell me if you find them?"

Vincent nodded, and Vivian nervously left, throwing him a worried glance that sent an affirmation that she knew they were present, and a plea for him to protect them. He didn't need to be asked.

"So, are there any more concerns?" Rufus asked.

Avalanche might have been content, if at that moment, a tiny sneeze hadn't interrupted the meeting.

Cloud looked around, knowing that he hadn't seen anyone sneeze. "Who else is here, Rufus?" he asked, darkly.

Vincent couldn't keep his gaze from wandering behind the couch, and he noted that it was considerable dusty in there. A little gray cloud had risen from the uneasy shuffling, dusting the top of the red velvet couch with dull silver specks. The shadow shifted, and he was able to make out wings from the figure's back. It was Nadiya; there wasn't a shadow of a doubt.

The vent creaked, and a small arm shot out. Vincent didn't have time to be subtle. Aidan's notorious temper would only make things worse. "Aidan," he barked. He didn't have to say anything more. The boy reluctantly crept a few feet back into the vent, but by no means tried to retreat. If anything, he was only more wound up and ready to spring.

But before Cloud could inquire as to who this Aidan was, Yuffie began to coo softly. "Oh! It's just a child!" She moved toward the couch. Nadiya sidled back, but she was backed into a corner. "Oh, poor thing, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise…come here, I just want to see you, baby!" She reached a hand into the crevice, but her face wasn't close enough to see yet.

"Yuffie, get back." The command was given by Vincent and Rufus at the same moment, though Vincent's harsh voice all but drowned out Rufus's calm request.

Yuffie drew her eyebrows together and scowled at Vincent. "What is your _problem_, Vincent? You get all protective and moody for no reason at all!"

"Perhaps this isn't the place for them to be," Rufus implored. "Vincent, you have their trust, could you take them elsewhere?"

"I will do no such thing," Vincent said without hesitation. "They have more right to be here than anyone else."

"This can't be good for them," Rufus argued. "They haven't been told the whole truth, and they may act rashly."

Vincent scoffed softly. "Does it seem that either of them holds a grudge against anyone here, even though they have every right to? It seems to me that they're both scared out of their wits, not vengeful."

"Hey!" Yuffie protested. "What have we done? You make it sound like we're the bad guys here!" She turned back to the cowering Nadiya. "Hey, little one, come on out!"

Nadiya pushed past Yuffie, knowing that she couldn't hide any longer, and ran toward Vincent, who quickly shielded her with his cloak. It wasn't enough. Cloud caught sight of the silver braids and the folded wings and his sword was instantly out. Vincent forced her entirely behind his body and backed into a corner, so that any blow would have to kill him before it reached the girl.

"That's…that's…" Yuffie stammered.

"And you make it sound as if we are the ones at fault," Cloud said slowly. "Look who's been harboring a couple of monsters."

Vincent refused to fall for the bait, even though it stung him deeply. "You _are_ at fault. Your hatred has blinded you. You watched Aralyn die and now you're going to murder her children in cold blood."

Cloud frowned. "Both their parents were traitors. Neither deserved to live. Aralyn got what was coming to her and for Sephiroth, I suppose it's only a matter of time."

Nadiya was quivering, confused and afraid. Her grip around Vincent's leg tightened. Vincent knew that Aidan was about to blow.

"This is nonsense," Rufus interjected. "You used to be allies, more than that, friends. What has happened to you?"

But this attempt at peace didn't stop Cloud from raising his sword and striking.

* * *

A/N: This chapter has been brought to you by the school-free Election Day. Thank your local candidates. Now...let the chaos begin.


	18. Next of Kin

Chapter Eighteen: Next of Kin

The blow never grazed Vincent or Nadiya with any more than a sudden rush of air, but all in the room were assailed with a harsh, metallic burst of sound and sparks of light.

Aidan was in front of Vincent, his form that of a practiced warrior. He was holding a severed section of steel piping, probably ripped from the vent in which he had hidden, the harsh hiss of released air pressure emanating from the vent adding evidence to that.

The pipe was bent into what looked like a ninety-degree angle by the force of Cloud's blow, but to the older man, it may as well have been his father's Masamune. Only the soft and quickly fading hiss echoed in the room as Cloud stared at the young boy. Vincent knew all too well what it was that he saw. He saw the face, pale and drawn in both serenity and fury, eyes alight with a searing fire. His stance was perfect, one foot in front of the other, and knees bent and prepared to absorb shock. He was on his toes, ready to leap lithely in any direction at the slightest provocation, his head was held high, taunting, threatening.

Cloud was not seeing Aidan, he was seeing Sephiroth.

"You…" he slowly hissed through clenched teeth, barely more than a whisper.

Aidan did not move; even the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply was hidden even to the most observant eye.

Cloud's eyes narrowed, his gaze intense enough to ignite flooded wood. He took one step forward and Aidan reacted at the same nano-second that he did. He threw his arms to the side of his body, stretching them as far as he could, offering his own small body as a shield. His gaze did not falter; there was no fear. "Do not touch my sister," Aidan said it slowly, accenting each word, his stance and courage giving more power to the words.

Nadiya reached around Vincent's body, her fingers grazing her brother's side, perhaps a silent plea to stand down. He didn't move, not lowering his gaze, not relaxing his body in the slightest degree.

Cloud could have swept the child aside with a single backhand; no matter how quick and brave the boy was, Cloud had the advantage of years of training, size, and strength. But he seemed held back by something that he couldn't explain, an instinct that his body observed despite his will to do otherwise.

Vincent waited along with everyone else for Cloud's anger to cool. Eventually, the man stood down, lowering his blade. No one stopped him as he stormed out the door, not looking back even once, not even responding to Yuffie's nervous attempts at getting him to stay.

"Nadiya," Rufus said, "Aidan, I'd like you to go back to Vivian."

"The worst of it is over," Vincent replied darkly. "And they deserve to be here."

Having reached this uneasy stalemate, Vincent took a seat, the twins refusing to sit, but they stayed close to the gunman's side. Nadiya still shielded her face behind his cloak.

Vincent was surprised to see that after it all, Tifa's expression was soft and motherly. She stood and knelt a few feet away from where little Nadiya remained sheltered, holding out a hand, palm up. Nadiya gasped and ran back a few paces. Aidan rushed forward to assist his sister, but Vincent seized the small wrist and held on with an unrelenting grip. "She will not hurt her," he murmured softly to console the boy.

"Is your name Nadiya?" Tifa asked. "It's a beautiful name." She inched slowly closer. "Mine's Tifa."

She still retreated, looking to Vincent for help, her wordless pleas turning to bitter betrayal as Vincent returned her request with a level gaze. Tifa saw how frightened she looked and how she cowered, and she looked infinitely sad.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she cooed in the gentlest voice. "Pinky promise?" Nadiya shook her head, still shuffling back.

Tifa sighed long and deep, as if her heart were breaking. "I can't blame you, little one. After what we did to your mother…it's all right, Nadiya. I understand. Truly, I do."

Nadiya's lips pulled into a frown. She remained where she was as Tifa returned to her seat.

Cid scoffed, but the sound was more contemplative than harsh. "Never saw Sephiroth as a fatherly figure."

"None of us did," Barret agreed. "So what do you plan to do with 'em?"

"That has yet to be decided," Rufus began, seeming glad to be back on topic. "There are many who have laid claim to them."

"Laid claim?" Yuffie exclaimed. "Like…like _baggage_?" Vincent was surprised by this rare burst of sentimentality from the ninja.

"Yes," Rufus said calmly. "And all of them from…undesirable sources."

Aidan faltered, seeming to know where this was going. Vincent gripped the boy's hand tightly. Nadiya didn't seem to be breathing, and she had collapsed into a large couch, seized by sudden nausea.

"The group responsible for the raid," Rufus continued, paying no heed to the state of the twins, "or rather, the man in charge, is the legal guardian of the children."

The logo and the blurred inscription flashed through everyone's minds even before he put the photograph on the table for all to see.

_Mor C m Te re Nov Ve it_

"Hojo is their next of kin. They fall to him in their father's absence."

* * *

A/N: I am so, truly sorry for leaving you here, but I couldn't continue due to Memorial Day Let's-kill-the-students homework overload. I'll write as soon as I can...

And I didn't get to Sephy...uuuuuugggggghhhhhh.

For those of you who like Sephy a lot, check out my new story. It's a little...weird. Sorry. The idea was killing me. It won't replace Everglow on any level though.

Be honest here. Does this seem a little dryer than Broken Wings? It feels that way to me. Seems to be going a little slow now.

Now I am going to listen to "Advent: One Winged-Angel" as I do my chemistry nomenclature and formulae. Rock on, man. Not the work...Sephy.


	19. Plead on Their Behalf

Everglow - Chapter Nineteen

"That won't be happening."

Rufus shook his head at Vincent's quiet, but dark outburst. "There's not really much we can do."

"What about finding…well…_him_?" Yuffie asked, unable to bring herself to spit out the name, but the connotation thereof was still venomous.

"Sephiroth?" Rufus clarified. He adjusted his arms to buy him some time to respond. The twins looked up at the mention of their father.

"Vincent," Rufus finally implored. "You remember what we spoke of the other day?" The gunman's fists clenched as he nodded grimly. "I know that they deserve to have a say in their future, but I think you will agree that this is…not something the children need to hear."

Vincent grimaced. "Then we will avoid the subject all together. Suffice it to say that Sephiroth is," he hesitated to search for the right words, "_unable_, currently, to take on his responsibilities as their father."

"And this will change?" Tifa asked. "You seem to imply that it will."

Vincent raised his chin just a little, his eyes seeming far away. "Perhaps. Who can say?"

"So let me get this straight," Yuffie said, rising to her feet to pace slowly around her comrades, ticking things off her fingers as she spoke. "Hojo's got all rights to these kids. Kids don't like that. So we turn to closer family ties. Makes sense, but have any of you pondered what exactly you are asking?"

Vincent saw where this was going. He sent a death glare at Yuffie, but as she was looking the other way, still idly motioning with her fingers, he did the next best thing. He held Aidan's wrist in an iron lock.

"In case it hasn't come to your attention, Sephiroth's history isn't so great. Somehow, I don't think these kids would be any better off in the care of a deranged murderer. I mean, who's to say he will even keep them alive? Or even if he does…"

"Yuffie," Vincent growled, finally shocking her into turning and meeting his eyes.

She seemed to wilt a little. "I'm just saying that I don't really trust his…eh, _ethics_ on the subject of fatherhood."

Vincent was surprised that Aidan wasn't fighting, but he would rather have seen the boy struggling than to see him rooted to the spot, eyes wide with shock and disbelief. He was clinging to every word. Vincent hadn't missed how the boy's eyes had lightened with the hope of being with his father, and now, he was seeing the other side of the coin. His silted pupils were narrow slivers of black in dark, unbelieving jade.

He could no longer see Nadiya, and that worried him even more. Had she left, unable to bear how her own father was slandered this way? What if she ran into Cloud…?

"Thank you for that insight, Yuffie," Rufus interjected quickly, sounding anything but grateful. But it was like a house fan next to a flame. Too much had been sparked to possible revoke it. Things were heating up fast; he could see it on everyone's faces.

"And let's suppose we do find him," Cid added. "We get not only Sephiroth, but two of his offspring to worry about as well. The way I see it, that just means more cruelty. His conquest could go on with two more minions tied to him by blood."

Aidan's energy seemed to have abandoned him, leaving the boy as still as a corpse, and nearly as pale. "Leave. _Now_." Vincent whispered harshly, but Aidan would not budge.

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Rufus's voice was rising. Even the cool headed leader of Shinra could only take so much. "Hand them to Hojo?"

"Nah, the old buzzard would probably get similar ideas! May as well be humane about this. The Turks…"

"I _refuse_, on any grounds, to even consider what it is you are asking." Rufus said, his hands clenching and relaxing in a steady rhythm.

"Who's to say they won't end up like their daddy? Answer me that! How many lives will be lost then?"

Vincent sensed an opportunity and acted accordingly. Quickly, so that the dazed child would not have the time to react, he pulled Aidan's sleeve up to his shoulder, exposing a thin, pale arm lined with scars. Some wounds were old, and were ever present as pink webs. Others were more recent. One, perhaps aggravated by Vincent's unintentionally rough handling, was torn, revealing the more vibrant red of muscle as the scab was peeled away.

Aidan did not so much as flinch at this, an instinct that served Vincent's purpose well. The twins were innocent victims of horrors that Avalanche could not fathom.

"That does not even scratch the surface," Rufus said sadly. "If I hadn't known that the wounds were caused scalpels I would be inclined to conclude that the boy had been whipped constantly for years. His back genuinely looks that way. Some of them…seem to be purposely centered on the path of major veins and nerves. Nadiya, until recent surgery to correct it, walked with a limp that was very painful to her because her leg had been shattered in regular intervals about five inches apart. Her feathers do well to hide the scars, but her precious wings were not spared this abuse. There are, to this day, remnants of dreadful poisons in her blood from their injection when she was an infant. We found…chips embedded in the base of both of the twins' necks that were designed to pinch nerves when they disobeyed."

Rufus let the silence ring. "Two innocent children will be treated worse than the cruelest felon in the world, worse than any animal or creature you can name in any circumstance you can imagine. Unless something is done, Avalanche, this is their fate.

No one replied to this, all eyes seemingly glued to Aidan's maimed limb. "I called to plead for your help on their behalf," Rufus finished in little more than a whisper.

"Where's the girl?" Tifa asked softly.

"You seem to have frightened her away. Seeing as how she's not with Vincent, I can imagine only one other that she would flee to. Don't worry, Vivian and a glass of warm milk will calm her."

"Vivian?"

"A nurse here," Vincent clarified. "She takes quite kindly to the children."

"A nurse no longer," Rufus corrected. "She has been released from all duties except those relating to the twins. She is now something of a foster mother."

"How did that come to happen?" Vincent asked.

"She begged to be allowed the privilege. She…literally…got on her knees and begged."

"Is she still paid?"

"All expenses relating to the children are covered by the company, but other than that, she refused any monetary support. She has given everything to be a mother to these children." Rufus looked Vincent in the eye. "But this won't last forever. No one has any claim to them except Hojo, and sooner or later, they must be returned."

"Doesn't Shinra have an army and Turks?" Vincent offered darkly.

"You and I both know why we cannot do that," Rufus responded. "This is not a battle of weapons. It _can't_ be."

"Why not?" Barret suggested. "Seems a good plan to me."

"The weapon they hold is…beyond belief. Nibelheim, by comparison, would be a day in the park. By provoking them, we endanger a lot more lives than just that of these children."

"So we give 'em up?"

Aidan tensed, withdrawing his arm and returning his sleeve to original position. He didn't try to meet the gaze of the members of Avalanche anymore.

"I did not say that."

"Then quit with the riddles and tell us what you _are_ saying!"

"And honestly," Yuffie interjected, "if you need us to take care of this weapon, all you had to do was ask."

"This weapon cannot be destroyed, Yuffie. Our only hope is to keep it dormant."

"_Nothing _is infallible."

"Nothing that's tangible is infallible," Rufus corrected. "But that is not my purpose for bringing you here. I need to know if you stand with these children, or against them."

There was a short silence, in which Aidan decided to leave, sending one last imploring look to Vincent. The boy turned to follow the path his sister had taken.

"Well," Yuffie began sheepishly. "They _are_ kind of cute…."

* * *

A/N: Is flutist girl dead? No...not quite.

So this chapter isn't exactly thrilling. But there's a lot of important stuff in here, so I hope you read carefully. Next chapter will be a little better...I hope.

I hope to get a lot of this story done this summer. Thanks to my laptop of holiness, I think it's possible.

Sorry about the last line, but it _seemed_ like something Yuffie would say. What do I know? I don't even own any of the games!

I still think Sephy needs to star in his own game...


	20. TwoSided Gifts

Everglow - Chapter Twenty

Sephiroth's phone hummed softly, making a slow, whining drawl as it vibrated against his thigh. Breath lost, he fished the phone from his pocket, his hands tingling with the persistent vibrations. He flipped it open with a quick, precise flick of his fingertips, to see his caller's name and number in white against a tranquil blue background.

_Valentine, Vincent_

He closed his eyes and shook his head as he gently closed the phone, returning it to his pocket without any heed to the continuing whine. That wasn't who he had expected.

He relied on the phone more than he had ever before, more than all his days in Soldier combined and doubled, he reasoned. He might have been justified a tad bit more if it was newer, with gadgets that would aid him in his tasks, but this was a monstrosity, a fossil of its kind. There were little remnants of the silver paint, the numbers on the keys were peeled off beyond recognition, and its functions were limited to receiving calls and, occasionally, when an outlandish number of requirements were met, calling others.

His reasoning was hardly logical, but relatively simple. The device was far too old to support any foreign technology, meaning Hojo couldn't clamp any tracer on it. It was one small victory, but hardly one of merit. As if the sadistic scientist didn't have numerous others on his body…

More importantly, newer technology required at least a half-hour of down-time plugged into a power outlet. Batteries, on the other hand, could be changed within seconds. His chances of missing a call were reduced exponentially by taking the little extra effort to remove the little latch in the back and slip the new cells in, and the weight of a couple dozen batteries was nothing to his strong back.

It would be worth carrying around the entire power plant itself to be rewarded with a call from Aralyn.

The rules had been explicit. The leaders of the organization were doubtlessly evil, but not stupid. He had tried to find a loophole a thousand times and then some; there was none. He would obey their every whim or Aralyn would die.

He had expected her to be locked away from him entirely, but on the contrary, he was allowed as many calls to her as he pleased and when he was back at base, he could see her without restriction. Those sacred, tender moments where they grasped each other so tightly that he thought they might become one were only marred by the knowledge of why he was allowed such a privilege.

It was a constant reminder of exactly what he would lose if he failed.

It was a cruel paradox, a painful tug on his heartstrings, but one that he accepted nonetheless. If it weren't for her, he would kill himself readily before he complied with the wishes of his father.

But he would not subject his love to that fate as well.

He contemplated for the thousandth time on what Aralyn would say if she knew why she was held in such masked captivity, why he was gone for weeks at a time with no word on a destination or a purpose.

She knew something was wrong, he saw the worry and the terror in her eyes whenever he looked at her. Nothing her could say or do could quell it entirely, only because that fear was on his behalf, and not her own. She would endure captivity for an eternity for his sake.

The trust and the love in her eyes were unshakable, and that was what killed him inside. She had not spoken of it since Sephiroth had pleaded for her to remain silent, and she was content with placing her livelihood and her very life in the hands of her husband.

He was vaguely aware that, even if he hadn't complied, there would have been death and untold suffering on every hand, but he still hated himself every waking and dreaming moment of his existence for betraying her like this.

He wasn't taught as a child to believe in deity, but his soul still cried out for divine intervention, a saving twist of fate, a miracle.

_Someone… _anyone_…save her…_

* * *

With another astounding burst of energy and a yell of fury, Aidan rammed his foot into the ball for the hundredth time. The innocent object, absorbing his anger, dutifully rolled a hundred feet, bounced off the walls, and returned to its owner's side. Eyes stinging, he managed to channel his rage into the ball one last time.

The force of the tiny foot was great enough to puncture the thick, patterned plastic and send a limp red carcass a considerable distance away. He stomped toward the dead toy and picked it up in his hands, knuckles white as he strangled the rubber before heaving it away from him with another violent cry. He sank to his knees, feeling empty with the release of this emotion, and buried his head in his hands, whimpering softly as he rocked side to side.

"Hey, son, what's the matter?"

Aidan raised his head, hardly daring to believe this miracle, but his eyes steeled as he beheld the man before him. It was not his father. "I'm _not_ your son!" he screamed, perhaps a little too loudly. His voice was already hoarse, and his throat terribly sore.

"It's just a figure…" The man stopped, and fell to his knees beside the boy. "I'm sorry to have offended you. The last thing you need right now is more provocation, huh?"

Aidan curled up into himself like an armadillo into its shell, protecting his face with his hands, making it crystal clear that he had no desire to talk. He rolled over so his front was facing the wall, his back to the stranger.

"Anything I can do to help?" The voice was sweet, _too_ sweet, Aidan decided. He shook his head and burrowed deeper into a ball, ignoring the strain of his muscles.

"I have another friend with silver hair," the man was now fingering his short hair, then he pulled back after ruffling it like they were old friends.

Aidan turned around in a flash. "What was his name?" He pleaded for the name of Sephiroth to be spoken. He wanted to hear word of his father like nothing else.

"I…can't seem to recall." The lie was hidden by the man's cloak. Before Aidan could accuse, however, he changed the subject. "So, do you live alone?"

Aidan frowned, and answered slowly and cautiously. "I have a twin sister. We've always been together, since before I can remember."

"A sister?" A smile was on the man's lips, but not his eyes. It seemed cold, superficial, somehow. "And does she have silver hair too?"

Aidan refused to answer.

"I'm not trying to intrude," the man amended. "I'm a friend. You'll see. Here, let me show you."

The man reached into his sweeping, black cloak and pulled out an elegant silver locket. The pendant was a heart, and was lovingly and skillfully carved and inlaid with precious gems. He held the pendant at the level of Aidan's eyes, letting the gems fleck colored light over his pale features.

"A little trinket for your sister?" he offered, extending it out to Aidan. "I'm sure she'll look radiant in it."

Aidan handled it like a combustible chemical, probing it with tentative fingers, examining the portraits inside.

"Just a harmless bauble," the man assured him.

Aidan let it rest in his palm, thinking it through for a few seconds. There was surely nothing harmful about it, and it was _so_ pretty. He could count on one hand the pretty things Nadiya had had in her life. Many girls walked the streets with these jewels not only on their necks, but their wrists, fingers, and even toes. Aidan nodded. She should have pretty things, just like all the other girls.

Aidan didn't thank the man, but rushed inside, excited to give this treasure to his sister.

Verian smirked at a job well done and walked slowly away.

* * *

A/N: Just a little look at Sephy's condition, with more coming. I am going away on vacation. I _will_ write. Whether or not I can post is yet to be determined. Then the following week I'm camping. I can't really bring my laptop to that. I'll post as much as I can before all the chaos ensues.

Chaos...hmmmmm...Vinnie?


	21. Enemies at Every Door

Everglow: Chapter Twenty-One

Vivian hadn't been looking when a startling force hit her legs, clinging to her tightly and spilling wetness on her hospital scrubs. Frightened, Vivian looked to find that it was only Nadiya, but the fear of an attack was soon turned to an overwhelming concern. "Nadiya," Vivian cooed softly, removing the thin arms from her legs so she could bend down and cradle the girl in her arms. "Nadiya, what's wrong?"

The girl sniffed, hiccoughing into her shoulder as the tears continued to fall. "Baby, what is it? What happened?"

Nadiya shivered, wrapping herself in the protective cocoon of her soft wings, and then climbed into Vivian's arms, letting the nurse lift her and nestle her against a strong shoulder.

Still whispering soft reassurances, she walked slowly down the halls. Her room would be a welcome sanctuary. The other workers gave the pair a wide avenue, some looking with sympathy, but more by far with contempt.

The hallway to Nadiya's room was emptier, and they both welcomed the change. The silence was thick and heavy; Vivian's padded footwear was nothing more than soft whisperings. Nadiya had fallen still, but still peered warily out through a gap in her little cocoon with wide, bright eyes.

Nadiya heard the stranger before Vivian did.

Vivian had no warning to suggest Nadiya's violent writhing that was to accompany the revelation. In the grip of panic, she tried to scamper down, and fell hard. Her nails, though not intentionally, had left soft red lines on Vivian's arms. Nadiya seemed worse, and tried to dash away. Her footing was unsteady.

Vivian seized the small wrist and held fast, then moving her hands to her shoulders and forcing the girl to look at her. As she had expected, Nadiya's eyes were unseeing, her vision darting all over the place in terror. Her breathing was out of control gasping and she fought with all the strength her tiny body possessed. She was beyond rational thought as she struggled in the vicious grip of this nightmare.

Vivian's gentle hands were thrown off the girl's shoulders and she ran again in a different direction than before. Vivian leapt, encircling the girl in her arms and holding tight, wincing as her struggles rocked the both of them.

In the shadows, a silhouette watched as Vivian tried to calm the girl, eyes glowing a startling blue, like portals of sky in the darkness. Only when Nadiya fell, defeated, energy spent, into Vivian's arms, did the spiky haired blonde advance from where he had hidden.

* * *

Vincent was on Aidan duty.

The boy had been spotted kicking the life out of his ball, but when Vincent went to investigate, Aidan was gone, only the lifeless carcass of his toy remaining.

He wasn't in his own room, and a quick peek into Nadiya's room revealed nothing of help. No one in the staff had caught glimpse or word of the silver-haired boy since his violent outburst in the gardens.

So he surveyed the hallways, occasionally peeking into doors or searching behind stalled carts or laundry bins.

After an hour, he met a janitor with a mop in hand. The man smiled through a salt-and-pepper moustache. "I shouldn't be on call this late. My hours are over," he said good naturedly.

Vincent looked to the floor. Spreading from the growing trail of water and disinfectants he saw a trail of small footprints inked on the tile in thin, powdery dust.

"Little tramp left quite a trail. The ones coming from the door were an inch thick in mud and grass shavings." The man scoffed in jest. "Probably could have made bricks out of the stuff."

Vincent nodded silent thanks and followed the faint, fading trail.

It was a long, winding path, but by the time the footprints faded away entirely, he was left at the mouth of a dead-end hallway. It had to be one of the doors down there, and there weren't many. It would be easy, assuming he was still in there and hadn't left, but if not, it was as good a place as any to start.

The first door led to be a plain, abandoned office, tidily arranged, but coated in a thick layer of dust and laced with vacant cobwebs. The second was a small supply closet, shelves holding everything from tools to chemicals except a small silver-haired boy. The third was a small passageway leading to another door, but that was bolted, locked, and sealed off with orange and yellow tape, so he assumed that Aidan had not taken that route.

He casually reached for the fourth doorknob and stopped, feeling as if he had been jolted with lightning.

This was Hojo's laboratory, left over and untouched since the days when he had worked here.

Aidan _couldn't_ be in there. Even if he wasn't his father's son, with the monstrosities of the famed Soldier's youth burned into his very blood, Aidan knew firsthand what would be in there. Every fiber of his being would scream to get away from this nightmarish place.

But there was a small, tiny noise from behind the door.

A mouse, perhaps?

_He wouldn't _possibly_ go in there…_

But Vincent, bound by his duty to the child, swallowed the rising memories of his own, pushed the door open, and slowly, cautiously, stepped into the room.

* * *

A/N: I'm leaving tomorrow. I will write on my laptop, but I can't post unless I can get the WiFi working. Sorry guys...but it's the best I can do. I may come home Sunday and post like 5 chapters then leave for camping. Chaos. Vinnie!


	22. Big Brother

Everglow - Chapter Twenty-Two

Vivian was expecting the worst. Cloud's sword was drawn, dangling freely in his hand so that the tip grazed the floor, but she knew that it could snap into a lethal position in a split second. She wished she could read something on his face, even anger or contempt would have been better than this blank expression.

"Hello," Vivian said nervously. "It's…a pleasure to meet you, Cloud." She extended her hand shakily, still making sure that Nadiya was shielded behind her.

Cloud didn't return the gesture, but turned his gaze to the child behind Vivian. The nurse retracted her hand and tried to move but nothing could obstruct those penetrating sapphire eyes from their target. She could feel the chilling heat that made her hair stand on end and an electric sensation run up her arms.

"Give her to me," he said blankly, revealing no emotion. He did not move his sword and in fact, she thought she saw the angle of which it sat with the floor rise just the slightest hair…

"Cloud, you are a hero! You can't…do this…"

He continued to assault the cowering Nadiya with his gaze. "Give the girl to me," he said again, just as monotonous and dead as before.

"You'll have to kill me first!" It came out quickly, harshly, and more passionate than was prudent. She didn't know what would be the final straw, the match to the dynamite that would ignite his temper and end both their lives. She held her breath and waited.

Cloud did not show any change in his expression, but raised his sight from Nadiya to Vivian. She was stunned, as if the glowing ice blue eyes had frozen her blood. She was only half aware that her mouth was still slightly agape.

His sword hit the ground with a harsh collision of stone and metal. "I am not here to…kill her. Just give me the girl."

Vivian noted how he hadn't promised that Nadiya wouldn't be _harmed_, just not to the point of death. She also doubted that this man needed anything but his bare hands to cause her harm; the disregard of his blade meant less than nothing.

Cloud seemed to note this, and sighed ever so softly. "There's nothing more I can say that will ever persuade you. This is something I need."

Vivian did not take her sight away from his piercing eyes, neither did he retreat, letting her probe his eyes freely. Nadiya had stilled behind her, and was peeking behind the nurse's skirt in an attempt to look at Cloud more clearly.

The small girl stepped from Vivian's protection of her own accord. She tilted her head up as far as it would go to meet the eyes of the man who towered above her.

Cloud slowly slid down to one knee, where he was still a good few inches above her. Nadiya lowered her head and intertwined her fingers tightly behind her back.

Cloud looked at her for a long time. "You're…just a child," he murmured to himself. "Marlene's age, maybe younger, even."

Nadiya brought her hands to her side, and then, at the level of her hips. Slowly, she began to sign. "_I am eight."_

Cloud frowned. "So it is true. You can't even speak."

"_I am…"_ she moved her fingers, but then stopped, not knowing the sign for the word she sought. "_I am __not__…"_ she signed, correcting herself the second time.

Her hands fell still. She could go no further, and her face was red with shame because of it.

"Nadiya you can't expect—" Vivian began to try to reassure her, but the feeling in the air silenced her.

But Nadiya raised her hands again, signing one more word to Cloud. "_Sorry."_ She hesitated, but then slowly began again, letter by letter, as she didn't know the sign. "_F-r-i-e-n-d?"_

"What did she say?" Cloud asked, addressing Vivian but looking still at Nadiya.

"She is asking for your forgiveness…and your friendship." Vivian whispered in awe.

Cloud did not answer, but Nadiya waited for as long as it took. After a moment, she fell to her knees, too, pleading silently, her eyes speaking the words she could not sign.

Cloud rose to his feet, pivoted, took up his sword, and held it ready. "I cannot grant you either, Nadiya." Form tense and coiled, he walked rapidly away.

Vivian did not let herself feel Nadiya's stiff, unfeeling body and the girl withheld her reaction until she was laid gently in her own bed, the pair locked away from the world behind a bolted door. Once they were both safe, Nadiya curled into herself, burrowing under her covers, hiding her face from the kind nurse.

Vivian sat down on the bedside and encircled the hidden girl, feeling how, even under the protection of the covers, she still wrapped herself in her soft wings. She could feel the curve of the bones and the gentle softness of the feathers even beneath the quilt and sheets.

"Nadiya," Vivian said, her voice breaking. "You did not need to ask for forgiveness. These are not your sins to atone for. They aren't even your father's! This is Jenova's wrong…and hers alone!"

There was no response.

"Are you listening to me, Nadiya?"

It was a question the girl did not have to answer. Vivian knew that Nadiya had heard every word, but would never, ever truly _listen_ to this argument.

Vivian simply embraced the girl and rocked her softly side to side, singing the soothing lullaby she remembered from her own childhood as she struggled to manage both Nadiya's hurt and her own.

* * *

A/N: I found out how to use WiFi, (APPLAUSE!) and that is why you have this maniacally depressing chapter brought to you today. Cloud…I'm basing him off what I saw in Advent Children. Yes, he is a jerk. Maybe a little OOC, but I promise there is a reason for it all. Those of you who stuck with me through Broken Wings know that I do stupid things for (I better not say intelligent reasons…) what _I_ consider to be intelligent reasons. I do own one half a brain. (knocks head, hollow sound) According to my last diagnosis with Dr. Professor Tehn I have two brain cells and one that's flickering. Whoo-hoo.


	23. Visions

Everglow - Chapter Twenty-Three

Aidan stood in the eerie green glow of a long abandoned mako tank, his shadow lengthened almost to the point where Vincent lingered in the doorway. His hand was held at his side, a long lever clutched in his fist. The control just above his head was hissing, many severed wires sparking as numerous fuses blew into short lived, multicolored flames. The lever was not the only part missing from the control board; several gauges had been hit with something hard repeatedly, some lined with pale spider web cracks while others' glass was in powdered sparkles on the floor. Buttons were rammed into the machine itself. A belt had been pulled from the engine. The medical tubing that was in the tank itself was wound in half melted knots at his feet.

But Aidan took no note of the damage, and stared on as if in a dream with eyes the color of the mako.

"Aidan," Vincent called, still stunned by this wreckage.

The boy finally turned around, moving as if through syrup. "Vincent," he said, his voice small and scared. "I think I'm…hallucinating."

Vincent frowned and approached the boy, taking his chin gently in his clawed hand and looking into his eyes. His catlike pupils were dilated so that they were mere slivers of blackness. Vincent removed the black leather glove from his other hand and pressed his fingertips to the thin wrist. His pulse was rapid and light, like the fluttering of a hummingbird's wings.

"What did you see?" Vincent asked calmly as he rose to his feet, still grasping Aidan's hand as he led him out of the old, dusty laboratory.

Aidan couldn't speak, but lowered his head and shivered. Vincent didn't press the matter. He was still dazed, perhaps seeing the vision yet again. He walked fluidly, and stumbled once or twice.

Vincent turned to go to Nadiya's room. He wanted Vivian to see this first, but a doctor or even a specialist might have to be called in. He was going quickly, Aidan struggling to keep up with his long strides even though he normally did it with ease. He might be overreacting, but Vincent wasn't about to take that chance.

He was concentrating so hard on the hallway that he didn't see the glimmer of silver in the boy's palm until they were outside Nadiya's door. He stopped dead as recognition hit him.

That pendant belonged to Aralyn, and was the only thing she had of her life before Shinra. He knew the portraits that would be inside, images of Aralyn's parents, Aidan's grandmother and grandfather on his mother's side, the only evidence of his long lost ancestry. Even a picture of his mother as in infant, dressed in the finest linen and held in her mother's arms would be just behind the tiny clasp.

But that wasn't what worried him.

"Aidan," Vincent demanded, "who gave you that?"

Aidan looked up with foggy, misted eyes and spoke in a slurred voice and subdued tone. "I dunno…didn't tell me a name…" His expression fell as he saw Vincent's anger, wrongly misinterpreting it as being directed toward him. "I didn't mean harm," he whispered. "I just wanted my sister to have something pretty like all the other girls."

Vincent sighed and softened his expression. "It's not your fault." He fingered the locket and examined it, confirming his suspicions. "But you don't know anything about the man who gave this to you?"

"No…"

As disconcerting as this was, it was still second priority. Aidan was faltering. Shaking his head, he put his hand on the knob of Nadiya's door. But before the door opened, he heard the boy whisper one last sentence beneath his breath.

"He said he had a friend with silver hair…just like mine."

* * *

The middle-aged, tall doctor stepped out of the room, clipboard in hand. Vivian and Vincent were side by side on a couch in the waiting room, which was the closest they could legally be to Aidan at the moment.

The doctor was a specialist. They had to call him as soon as possible, and it had taken the man three hours from the time of the call to arrive. Those doctors eyed him with disdain, sure that they could have handled a delusional child by themselves, but Rufus had not faltered for a second when Vincent had requested the man. It seemed that Rufus also sensed the gravity of the situation.

"Doctor?" Vivian asked the man. "What did you find?"

The doctor reviewed his papers, and then removed his glasses so they could see his clear, intelligent gaze all the better. "Physically," he began in a clear, deep voice, "he is fine. The symptoms passed fairly quickly and I see no trace of lingering effects. A good night's sleep and he will be as right as rain."

Vivian relaxed. Vincent did not.

"It's not his body I am concerned about," the specialist continued gravely. "Vincent, while I can't say your fears have been confirmed, they are at least legitimate and at least possible, if not probable."

Vivian raised her head, alarmed. "What do you mean--?"

The doctor spoke slowly, putting much care into the words he used and their inflictions. "It is conceivable that he is reacting like most of the others infused with Jenova's cells and responding to the call of…an outside entity."

"But," the doctor continued quickly, before Vivian could panic, "I think I have another solution that is both more likely and more comforting to you.

"He has not been able to bring himself to speak of what he saw, but from what little I have been able to gather, it was _not_ Jenova. The name and the description I gave of her did not register in his mind in the slightest. I am confident that whatever it was he saw, it wasn't Jenova."

Vivian was breathing a lot easier. "So it wasn't her…"

"Not only does he not seem to recognize her, but she's been inactive for months. I've heard from many who report feeling her absence. It is…most peculiar."

Vincent didn't offer his own knowledge on the subject, though something about this doctor seemed to suggest that he had guessed on his own. Maybe that was why he had willingly treated Sephiroth's son.

"Then what _did_ he see?" Vivian asked. "He's a strong boy, and as close to fearless as it comes! What could hurt him like that?"

The doctor paused, and then removed his glasses entirely, tucking them into the small pocket on the breast of his white uniform. "It is only an estimate, but consider this: Aidan is strong, but from what I hear, only violent when provoked. Not only that. He will endure any abuse to himself, but reacts passionately when those he loves are threatened. Would it be too much of a leap to say that only a threat to one close to him would drive him to maul an inanimate machine of solid steel and mako the way he did? What else could possibly drive him into the heart of the room where Professor Hojo committed all those atrocities?"

Vivian listened and nodded her head sadly. "Yes…I believe you."

The doctor approached Vivian. "Do not let him out of bed for the next twenty-four hours. Restrain him if you must. I want his vitals monitored, the whole works, _everything_; just to be safe. I don't want his life threatened because of an error on my part."

"I understand. I'll prepare the equipment," Vivian said, quickly scurrying away.

"And Vincent?"

Vincent turned, going back toward the doctor from the point he had followed Vivian to.

"This is not to pass to Vivian," the doctor said quickly, in a whisper, his eyes shifting about nervously. "But Aidan told me that he has had such visions before."

The doctor spoke softer than ever, fearful that they would be overheard. "And they have never been inaccurate in the slightest."

* * *

A/N: I really have nothing to say except that I'll write more as soon as I can, but I say that every time and it's getting old. I'll try to find different ways to say it. Like this week's...drumroll

Escribiré tan pronto como yo puedo.

Someone who speaks spanish tell me if that's right. I got it off a free internet translator... (I do recognize the word pronto!!)


	24. Dire Miscommunication

Everglow - Chapter Twenty-Four

Vivian was teaching the children more sign language as Vincent returned, Aidan propped up in bed in accordance with the doctor's orders. He didn't seem to mind as long as he was included in the lesson with his sister and Vivian.

"Come to join us?" Vivian asked, smiling tiredly at Vincent. He saw very clearly the toll the stress was taking on her. He wondered how long it had been since she'd had a full, uninterrupted night of sleep.

Vincent pulled himself up a chair by the bedside, figuring that he had nothing better to do with his time. As soon as he was situated, Nadiya crawled into his lap. He started to brush her off, but decided to let it slide this time.

Vivian smiled and shyly adjusted her glasses, blushing under Vincent's gaze, then quickly referred to the dictionary and a sheet of paper on her lap. "Today, I've pulled a few words from the book. I think we've all got the alphabet down. And after that, I have another treat for you!"

The lesson began at a slow, comfortable pace for all of them. The words she picked were practical and useful, especially for Nadiya's unique condition. These would allow her to communicate how she was feeling. Not only did they cover basic emotions, but physical needs, like hunger, tiredness, thirst, and hurt. Both children proved to be extremely bright, and clung to every word, only needing the word repeated two or three times and the occasional prompting.

Vincent only half participated, finding himself very spellbound by simply watching the trio practice. Vivian was an excellent teacher, always gentle and open minded to anything they would say. The lesson was not strict or even very structured, they paused often to smile, laugh, and play. She praised them often and sometimes rewarded them with small wonders like a new candy, a small toy, or a book.

He hadn't realized he'd been staring at Vivian until the nurse turned a vivid beet red and stammered something he hadn't been paying enough attention to hear.

"You know, in all the movies, after a man looks at a pretty lady like that he always kisses her," Aidan added innocently.

Vincent felt like he'd been slapped with an icy wave of water. What had Aidan seen in his eyes? What would he think? What would _Vivian_ think?

"Aidan!" Vivian stammered, the hue of her cheeks deepening. "We don't speak of such things!"

Vincent heard so much more in that gentle scolding; emotions he had not heard in thirty years surfaced yet again, twisting a barb in his heart.

_I wasn't thinking…I _couldn't_ have been feeling…_

He was all too aware that Vivian was averting her eyes from him to hide her shame, her face still a hot, fiery red. He knew then that she had been gazing at him, too. He couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before. Had he only seen what he wished to see? It had been so blatant that that must have been the case.

"Rest well, Aidan, and behave yourself." Vincent roughly tousled the boy's hair and patted Nadiya's hand. He didn't look at Vivian as he curtly said, "Good day, Vivian."

"Vincent, I—" she cried, extending a hand desperately and rushing after him, a thousand explanations and excuses in her eyes.

But he was already gone, fleeing toward the tomb of Lucrecia, to the one place where these longings could not follow.

* * *

"What did I do?" Aidan cried, worried by the way Vivian kept sweeping her sleeve over her eyes. "I didn't want to make you cry!"

Vivian smiled warily and hugged the boy. "Oh, Aidan, you didn't know. You did nothing wrong. It's not your fault." Vivian blew into a handkerchief and then straightened, seeming to compose herself.

_"Vivian's heart hurts?"_ Nadiya signed, wrapping her arms around her caretaker's legs. _"I'm sorry."_ Nadiya extended both of her beloved wings and did her best to encircle Vivian in the soft, warm plumage as well as in her thin arms.

Vivian smiled and embraced the twins. They were too young to understand, and too innocent and naive. She softly kissed the top of their heads lightly, turning her gaze out the window.

_Sephiroth, you are the most blessed man on this planet to have such children…come back, they need their father._

* * *

A/N: The fates are conspiring against me. I turned on my laptop of glory, popped my knuckles, and pressed my fingertips to the keys and what comes to mind? A BIG BLOCK. So that took two days. And then, once this chapter was ready, fanfic was down for hours. That's okay. It's up now.

I return to my home for a grand total of fifteen hours and then I go camping for a week. Laptops are not allowed. So...I can't write. To make it up, I will try to post another chapter (hopefully three, actually!) before Monday when I have to go. Most of the time between then and now will be in the car...

As much as I love dear Vin-Vin-Vin-Vin-VINNIE, he needs to be hit upside the head with one of those large salad spoons.


	25. Handprints

Everglow - Chapter Twenty-Five

"You've been gone a while."

Vincent didn't give any implication that he had even heard the voice other than a slight raise of his chin. He continued his slow, aimless walk through the hallways.

Rufus Shinra caught up to him and walked alongside the gunman, somehow keeping up with his long, elegant strides. "The children have been worried."

Once again, Vincent gave no reply, preferring to look straight ahead. His look was not encouraging the conversation; he looked forlorn, angry and despairing all in one, but Rufus still persisted.

"You could at least tell them you are safe."

Vincent closed his eyes and glided to a stop. "They are in their rooms?"

Rufus shook his head and continued to walk, signaling for Vincent to follow.

If it was possible, Vincent seemed to become more and more withdrawn as he realized where he was being led. The halls were whiter, the lights brighter and harsher, the tile the standard checkered white, gray, and black. The doors were metal, the small window laced with steel wire. The numbers were fading with time, one identical room blending into another, the pattern without interruption.

At the twenty-first door from the last turn they had made, Rufus stopped and gestured forward. "In there." After a tense moment of silence, he fished a key ring from his pocket. "They've been leaving the door unlocked in anticipation of your arrival, but just in case…" He handed the gunman a small brass key. "I don't think they'll mind an intrusion."

Vincent closed his hand around the key but didn't move toward the door. "Why did you lead them here? What purpose would it serve?"

"I did not show them this. They just _knew_."

Vincent glared at Rufus, his eyes laden with distrust and disbelief.

"Does that surprise you?" Rufus accepted the silence as an answer to the affirmative and nodded curtly. "I never told you what the security team found, did I?"

"At my request, I had some of my men review the security tapes from back when Sephiroth was a general. Aidan had been snooping around and Nadiya was tagging along."

Rufus paused. "They could not possibly have seen the screen, but they knew it was their father that was speaking. They knew his voice. Aidan even called out for him. I have never seen such a despaired child as when he found out that it was only a recording."

Vincent mulled over this for a long time. "You are suggesting that they were drawn to this room?"

"It would make sense, wouldn't it? Nadiya told us that sometimes when she was in Hojo's lab and in the worst of her anguish, she would feel arms around her and voices urging her to hold on. Aidan has dreams. Both of them knew their father like he had raised them. Given all this, would it be too much of a stretch to say that they could identify the room their parents had spent their childhood in?"

Vincent was still skeptical, not sure whether he should believe that there was some supernatural connection. He judged it to be a conversation best dropped. "Have they been well?"

Rufus changed the subject. "They are probably waiting. Go on in."

Vincent took that as a definite no.

Rufus left the gunman standing by the door. Vincent slowly slid the key into the lock and found it already unlocked. He turned the knob and pushed the door open slowly, hinges long ago rusted almost beyond use wailing their protest.

The room, in contrast to the others, was painted. Even though the lights were dimmed, Vincent was assaulted by the contrast. He could tell by the naivety of the style that the walls were painted by Sephiroth and Aralyn's small, inexperienced hands. Streams of paint, not tended to when they had first been applied, sometimes ran past the boundaries of the shapes and intruded into different hues and designs. There was no logical pattern to the designs; there was a vine with small, dainty blossoms and an ocean next to it, pastel and neon colored fish swimming in harmony.

Vincent turned his eyes up. On the ceiling, two sets of handprints, one slightly larger and less feminine than the other, were smeared across the entire breadth of the bland white tile.

_He could have sworn he saw a young girl and a silver-haired boy leaping up to the bed, smiling mischievously, before they jumped with all their strength to paste their painted hands onto the ceiling. When the area was so plastered with prints that any more would make the haphazard pattern indistinguishable, the children jumped to the floor. The boy got behind the plain metal headboard and moved the bed to a new, untainted area. The girl went straight to a cluster of shallow, round pans, each with a different color of paint, and dipped her small hands in past her wrists, not having bothered to wash the last color from her hands first. The boy soon joined her, dipping one hand in green and the other in a turquoise, grinning widely. The pair raced to the bed, not caring as their hands dripped splotches of color on the white bedclothes, and they leapt into the air again, laughing and squealing in pure, childish delight._

He could only imagine how fierce Hojo's fury might have been, or the price the pair had paid for these simple moments of rapture. Somehow, he didn't think either of them had minded. That these prints were still here, and even that they had been grudgingly allowed in the first place, was undeniable proof of a victory against their oppressors.

In the bed, pushed against the corner, bedclothes still splashed with color despite being faded through washings, Nadiya and Aidan lay curled up in the same place their father had slept all these years ago.

He had never seen such peace and content on the children's sleeping faces.

He entered cautiously, stepping slowly to muffle his footfalls. He stopped at the children's bedside and observed the still children for a while. He wondered what they were dreaming, and if they perhaps could feel their parents in the room, protecting them.

He couldn't bring himself to wake them. The news that he was back could wait until morning. The sheets were at their ankles from their unconscious shifting, and so he righted the blankets, feeling oddly at peace as Nadiya let out a long, contented sigh and then curled in closer to her brother.

A glint in the vent caught his eye.

Silently he sank to his knees, fingers deftly handling the latch. When the grate fell away with a barely suppressed squeal, he reached in and pulled out can after can of ancient, leftover paint, most of the colors mixed so that it was impossible to tell the original hue. The lids were only half hammered on, and the tops of most were covered with a filmy layer of hardened paint. Brushes and stencils, lovingly but naively cleaned, and heavily worn books, favorite pages dog-eared, completed the set.

Tomorrow, he decided, he would let the children add their prints to their parents'.

* * *

A/N: (cough, wheeze, gasp) (points to 'next chapter' button)


	26. Siege of Altair

Everglow - Chapter Twenty-Six

_"Mama, where are we going?"_

_The woman who had been bent over a small bag, folding in haste everything they would need, turned at the tiny, innocent voice. The woman's face was creased with worry, dark circles painting storm blue-gray eyes._

_But she tried to give her daughter a smile. "We're going away, baby."_

_Her daughter's head tilted to one side in confusion, her two gold braids bobbing softly. The little girl adjusted the pink blanket she held over her shoulder so the corner was clenched in one fist and the rest left to be her elegant train._

_"Where, Mama?"_

_The woman could not answer truthfully. In all reality, they could be forced to any city, town or forest on the old, faded parchment map tucked at her belt. _

_"Gloria, can you help Mommy?" she asked._

_The tiny head bobbed in agreement._

_"Get anything you'd like to take, but change into your riding clothes. You know the ones I'm talking about? The plain tan breeches and the blue jacket?"_

_Gloria nodded again and sidled off to do as her mother had asked._

_The mother looked around the large, ornate room and sighed deeply. The jewels and dresses her daughter would not need, but there were family treasures that she ached to bring along. Things that belonged to her precious daughter by right of her birth had to be left. They could afford to take only their lives and little else._

_The woman pulled pins out of her long, lustrous hair and rumpled it until it stuck out every which-way. Gathering her hair in one fist, she held her breath, picked up a knife, and cleanly slid the blade through her beloved hair. _

_The locks fell to the floor, gold shavings among the regal crimson carpet. She stifled a cry and slid out of her ornate dress, stepping into a torn maidservant's gown and an apron speckled with thousands of shades of dried and splattered food. Her tall,_

_golden shoes were set aside and replaced with simple leather sandals._

_Everything had to go. Her necklace, given to her as an anniversary gift, was set down, albeit lovingly, in a jewelry box that would probably be burned with this home. She choked as she eased her wedding band off her finger, knowing that he would understand, but hating it all the same._

_Gloria came back in dressed in the outfit her mother had specified, a tall, dark shadow following behind her. _

_"Nadia," the figure breathed._

_The woman ran and fell into the man's strong, waiting arms. Gloria toddled away respectfully, letting her parents share their last moments together._

_"Bryan I had to…" Nadia held a silken hand up, an indent where she had faithfully worn her ring all these years. Bryan took her hand between his and grasped it encouragingly._

_"The ring means nothing," he said. "What it has stood for is more important." He ran his large hand through her cut hair, frowning. "If there were any other way, Nadia…"_

_"No. Gloria…she has to get out of here. They'll…" her voice faltered and she buried her head in the man's shoulder. _

_Gloria was unaware of the danger, blissfully galloping around the room in her ignorant innocence, singing a nonsense song to the doll balanced on her hip._

_"You must leave quickly," Bryan urged. "The siege has begun. The north wall has fallen."_

_"You will fight?" Nadia asked, eyes darkening with concern. "Your shoulder…"_

_"I will fight," he assured her tenderly, "so that my wife and daughter may escape."_

_"Where are the reinforcements? Where is Bafisk?"_

_Bryan sighed. "They will probably only care about our fate when they find young Lord Verian's bride vanished."_

_The pair separated gravely. "You sealed it?" Bryan asked._

_"Yes."_

_Bryan nodded approvingly and walked over to his small daughter. "Gloria Dawn," he said in a singsong voice. "Where's my baby Dawn?"_

_Gloria smiled and let herself be wrapped in her father's arms. "I'm here, Daddy."_

_"You will be good for your mother?"_

_"Yes Daddy, I promise." The girl frowned. "Daddy, when can Mommy and I come home? Why aren't you coming with us?"_

_An explosion of sound gave the father only time to embrace his daughter once more before he lifted her and put her in her mother's arms. "Leave quickly," he urged. "Take our last hope with you."_

_The queen was biting her lip as she became one with the panicking crowd, just another face among thousands trying to get through the gates that held their only chance for freedom._

_The bombs fell again, an entire section of her home severed from the whole._

_Bryan was in that wing. If he had hesitated to leave, he would have been killed instantly._

_Nadia knew that, either way, it was over._

* * *

A/N: (cough, wheeze, pant) (points to 'next chapter' button)


	27. Forest and Flame, Demon and Angel

Everglow - Chapter Twenty-Seven

The children were with Vivian in the morning.

Vivian was seated in the rocking chair, Nadiya standing on a stool behind her. Vivian was allowing the girl to play with her long, blonde hair. It had still been kinked from the braid she had kept in the past few days, but Nadiya left the curl be. The tiny beautician was gently rearranging strands this way and that, observing, and then adjusting as needed. Vivian was smiling, encouraging her, and assuring her that she was not tender headed. Nonetheless, Nadiya was extremely cautious.

Aidan was laying on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, playing with some new model cars on a makeshift paper roadway and a small wooden ramp.

"Good morning," Vincent greeted simply, darkly.

Two speeding bodies collided with his legs, knocking the breath out of him. "Vincent!" Aidan cried. "You're back!" Nadiya jumped up and down happily while still clinging to him.

He spent a few minutes there with the kids, explaining that no, he _wasn't_ angry with Aidan and yes, he knew that the boy hadn't known what he was saying. He accepted the apologies but still insisted that they were needless. He took his time, avoiding the gaze of the silent nurse in the corner.

It was not to last forever.

"You're back," Vivian whispered when the children's attention had been redirected to their newest toys. "The children missed you dearly." Her head was lowered, jade eyes peering abashedly through her glasses. "And…I am glad you're safe."

It was too formal, and they both knew it.

"Vivian I—we need to talk."

She nodded sadly, seeming to regard it with dread. "Tonight, in the gardens. I will leave the children with a friend of mine."

"I will be there."

Vivian plastered on a half hearted smile for the children, assuring Nadiya that everything was fine and that she still wanted her hair done. The child grinned and hopped up on the stool, resuming her careful play with Vivian's long hair.

Vincent had only a few hours to decide on what he would say.

* * *

Vivian was there long before he was, gazing out at nothing in particular. He white nurse's dress was gone, replaced with a simple but beautiful sapphire evening gown. Her waist length hair was in a messy braid, no doubt the work of Nadiya's earlier trials. She stood tall, hands clasped, her back to him as she waited patiently.

"Vivian," Vincent greeted formally.

"Mr. Valentine," Vivian returned. "It's a beautiful evening."  
"…It is."

They were side by side, but there were feet of vacant, stagnant space between them.

"You went to see Lucrecia." Not a question, a statement.

"Yes."

"You must love her dearly."

Vincent knew where she was heading with this, but not even his stoic refusal to reply could stop the tide now that it had begun.

"I am sorry if I gave you the idea that I was…trying to…intrude…on the place she holds in your heart. I would never, ever defile her memory like that."

Vincent accepted her apology with a curt, barely perceivable dip of his chin. He knew she wasn't over, even when she stopped, hesitating for words.

"But still…I wonder…"

Vincent turned to her and met her gaze, startling her with how calm and composed his face could be while his eyes burned with such a light.

He knew she couldn't say it with their eyes locked as they were.

She tried; with all her strength, she tried. Her lips parted again and again but no sound came forth. She tried to move back, then forward, but she may as well have been immersed ankle deep in cement.

He found himself similarly bound.

Her eyes were spellbinding. He liked the color. It was living, bright, expressing hope like the newly budded spring leaflets. They were wide portals to her emotions, her kind heart, and her mind. He could see her thoughts dance, flickering like short lived fireflies through the emerald. He found himself looking deeper to find flecks of gold and amber…like new wood.

He knew what she saw. Over time, he had become accustomed to seeing the flames in his eyes, though it always came with a harsh reminder of exactly what _he_ was.

She was noble, she was strong, and above all, she was _innocent_.

She was a forest. He was a flame.

Flames inevitably _destroyed_ forests.

He pulled back.

"What do you wonder?" he prodded.

Her eyes glistening, she pleaded, "Vincent, say you don't care for me. Tell me I'm nothing, that I'm a silly, empty-headed girl. That I'm a fool for dreaming I could ever…"

He hadn't been expecting that. What she wanted now, what her eyes yearned for, was a clean break. She wanted a harsh, painful, irreversible severance, but quick, and merciful. She had given up. She was down, defeated. Like a mortally wounded animal, she asked only for the last mercy of a quick death to free her from the pain of this world.

He couldn't say it. He _knew_ what she wanted, saw that it would be a gift to her, and saw the sense in her reasoning, but he couldn't say it.

"You are not silly or an empty-headed fool." He said it darkly, with no emotion, but he hoped that the words were strong enough to speak without the help of a matching tone. "You are a strong, vibrant, radiant young woman. I am…blessed…to know an angel like you. The children could have no better guardian."

Her look was cautious, still waiting to hear where he was going with this.

"Your only folly," he concluded slowly, "is consorting with a demon."

He hadn't known Vivian could move so fast. He was given only a split second to see her advance, and then his vision blacked out. He saw flecks of light, stars that were not a part of the garden they stood in.

Vivian had thrown everything she was into that harsh, open-handed slap.

"Don't you _dare_ say that, Vincent Valentine!" she wailed, gripping his arms with strength that cut off his circulation. "Don't you _dare_! After all you've done for the children…for _me_…for _Lucrecia_!...don't you dare call yourself that!"

He wanted to point out exactly where Lucrecia was because of him, but she continued on. Warm blood spilled from his cheek, over the still stinging, hand shaped wound. She was crying freely, speaking through her wracking sobs and heavy, gasped breaths.

"I'll take any insult to me. Whatever was said, it would be a _thousand_ times truer than that. A _demon_? A demon who rescued two defenseless children who were cast out by every other on the entire planet? A demon that has stayed by their side, protecting them, _loving_ them, in your own way? A demon who _loved_ Lucrecia with everything he had? A demon who feels pain and remorse…however unjustified they are! A demon that cherishes life and fights _only_ to preserve it? And how many more thousands of silent, unspoken acts of selflessness has said demon done? No…Vincent…a demon? Only an _angel_ would do even _half_ the good you have!"

By now, Vincent was numb. Even the sting of his wound was gone. Maybe it was this unfeeling state that allowed him to finally say what he did.

"If that is what you truly believe, then perhaps I have misjudged you."

He didn't know how long Vivian had stayed at his side or at what point she stumbled brokenly away. It was of no consequence. He _knew_ what he was. Her words had not changed anything.

But then why did the feeling return? He had only felt this way after he had told Lucrecia that Sephiroth had been killed…

He only had felt this way when he _lied_, he realized.

* * *

A/N: THREE chapters, as promised. :D

Now I'm off to camp to avoid the tomatoes. YES, I know it's...sappy. (that doesn't even begin to cover it...) Anyway, I thought I'd throw in some of Vincent's mentality. Joy. More like...chaos!


	28. Sacrifice

Everglow - Chapter Twenty-Eight

It was well after midnight, perhaps with only a few hours left until dawn. The moon, even if it had been visible through the rolling storm clouds, would have been in its stage where it was entirely hidden. No stars were decipherable past the dark gray veil. It was a lightless, lifeless night.

But Aralyn, who was terrified of the dark, had the only light she ever needed.

He had crept in silently, kneeling at her bedside without the slightest breath of leather or armor. One bare hand was over her clasped hands, squeezing reassuringly, begging her not to be frightened, while the other was on the back of her head, stroking her hair. With such gentleness and tenderness, she was coaxed from a dark sleep, reluctantly returning to her dark prison. His shadow might have startled her, she could tell he feared that very thing by how tentatively he touched her, but she knew that no monster could be this loving, this tender.

Breathing his name in a rush Aralyn threw herself into Sephiroth's open arms, burying her head in his strong chest, pressing her ear to his heart and listening to the steady, strong beat. He encircled her in his arms, drawing his wing from its neatly tucked position at his shoulder blade and draping it over her frail, trembling form, warming her with his own body's heat and warding off the terrible drafts of the room.

He moaned her name as if in terrible pain, his voice breaking. Aralyn recognized the horrific self-loathing and threw her arms around his neck before he could retreat. It was like a dagger in her chest to stare into those anguished eyes, portals to his broken and tortured soul.

He was torn; she could see the conflict in his eyes. One side pleaded for the embrace, trembled at her soft caress, while the other, no less pleading for the loving affection, revolted away. She knew how he saw himself. She felt how much it hurt for him to touch her, how he saw the red blood dripping in terrible quantities from his fingertips, how he was horrified that he could defile his pure angel like this.

She grasped to him with all her strength, pressing her lips to his, not letting him retreat, begging him to stay. "Sephiroth," she whispered, "my angel…"

He moaned again, doubling over and trembling.

"Oh, my angel, what have they done to you?" The leather pressing against her white nightdress was wet. A sudden burst of lightning revealed a trail from the open door, dark blotches in the vague shape of his boots, splatters and droplets between every step, and rivers where he had knelt.

Aralyn pressed him down, laying his head on the pillow, eliminating any resistance with another soft kiss on his cold, damp forehead. He exhaled deeply, not making a sound, his chest heaving silently, irregularly.

"What happened?" she breathed worriedly as she set her hands gently on his chest. There was no light to see the location or severity of the wound. She probed his body with the lightest touch imaginable, like the feet of a tiny ladybug. "Who did this to you?"

Sephiroth's back arched as her fingers found the wound. Inadvertently, she had snagged a loose piece of flesh. She forced her hands on his chest, pressing him back down, and embraced him until his breathing was less harsh and pained.

"A…reminder," he choked, "of who is in charge."

The cut had not been made cleanly. It was jagged, stretching on his left side from mid-abdomen to the end of his thigh. There was the tangy smell of blood in the air, along with something harsher, more acrid. The wound was warmer than usual, warmer by far than his freshly spilled lifeblood.

Aralyn began to cry as she left him only for a moment to stumble to the small sink in the corner. Her hands fumbled around until she found a shallow bowl that she grudgingly judged to be sufficient and a large washcloth of scratchy, frayed cloth. The water was dank, and smelled too strongly of minerals. It came in only one temperature: lukewarm.

This was not the care she would have chosen for her husband.

Finding her way back, spilling much of the water from the bowl on the way. This time it was her turn to kneel at the bedside, the bowl on the ground. She dipped the old cloth in the water and wrung it until it was merely damp. She took Sephiroth's hand as she pressed the cloth to his side.

She would have given anything in the world for light, warm water, antiseptic, and clean and soft bandages at that moment.

He squeezed her hand in return and silently bore the crude treatment, knowing that it was everything she had and accepting it gratefully.

She tried to dab at the blood as much as possible rather than rub, as the rag had the feel of a scrub brush and would hurt his already sensitive skin and would probably further tear the wound. Once or twice, he had to force her hand to do the task that had to be done. He remained silent, gazing at the ceiling to keep her from reading his eyes. She was genuinely afraid of what she would find there.

"Aralyn, you are worried."

She looked up. "How do you know?"

"I can feel it in the way you move." The corners of his lips curved up in a sad, haunting smile. "This is nothing, Aralyn. You needn't worry about me. It will profit them nothing if I were to die."

Aralyn bit her lip hard as she worked, tasting fresh blood in her mouth. Sephiroth's keen senses registered this, and he turned his gaze upward, looking truly grieved.

"I can't, Aralyn."

It was no longer unusual for him to peer into her mind at such times. He had seen her unasked question.

Aralyn threw the rag to the ground, buried her head in the space of bed at his hip, and sobbed.

She was entirely enfolded by him before she could feel the sheets in her face. His arms, his wing, all molding around her curled body.

It was his agitation that caused his heart to pulse faster and harder, resuming the steady trickle from his side. In a matter of seconds, all Aralyn's loving care had been erased, and they were left with a worse scenario than when he first entered her room.

It was becoming increasingly clear that the wound could not stay open.

Somehow Aralyn had separated herself from Sephiroth and stumbled to the door. She tripped, and fell on her face, and she had to force herself not to look back; she knew what had caused her to slide. Untangling her limbs, she rose to her knees and rammed on the button beside her door repeatedly. "Nurse!" she cried. "Someone! Anyone there?"

"Aralyn," Sephiroth breathed. "No one will come."

"Then what will happen to you?"

"I will heal with time. Less time than you would."

Aralyn continued to ram on the intercom.

He slid to her side and put his lips a breath away from her ear. "You are being irrational, my love."

She stopped and fell back against his chest, holding her aching fist. "I know." She waited a while before adding, "So are you."

Sephiroth pondered this for a long while as he rocked her back and forth.

_Tell me,_ she silently pleaded. _Tell me everything._

"Aralyn I…there are some things that you…need to understand."

She turned her wide eyes up to meet his, ready to receive the answers she had sought full-heartedly.

Sephiroth in a low monotone explained everything. He told her why he was called away, what he was being forced to do. He lost control of his voice when he whispered of what had been done to her in front of his very eyes. He had to be coaxed by the thick silence for him to speak of what would happen if he failed, if he varied in the slightest degree from his orders.

Aralyn listened in silence, grasping his hand, welding her strength with his. When he was done, she did not shy away, even though he had explicitly explained his atrocities in vivid detail.

"Sephiroth, you know that I love you…with everything I am, I love you. None of this, _none of this_, is your fault. But…you know what must be done to stop it.

"It hurts me…more than you will ever know," her voice broke repeatedly. He couldn't see her tears, but they fell onto his chest and arms. "To ask this of you. But I do ask it. Because I love you. Because I want you to be free. Because of all the lives you will save…

"Sephiroth," she reached up and took his face in her hands, locking her eyes with his. "I am not afraid. Not of the pain, and not of the beyond. If you love me, as I love you, you must break your oath, you must not let Hojo control you. Think of the lives you will save if you can bring all you know to Avalanche!

"And to do this, you must let me die."

* * *

A/N: DO. NOT. PANIC.

At camp, I wrote three one-shots. I may or may not post them.

A couple that are dear friends of mine who has been struggling to have children for the better part of ten years had their baby pass away. It was due tomorrow. It was a boy...she will hold him for a few moments, and then burry him. If any of you are religious, I ask for your prayers on their behalf. This is beyond traumatic. They were so very close...

Maybe this explains why this chapter is so dark.

I may not post for a few days. Please excuse me.


	29. Newcomers

Everglow - Chapter Twenty-Nine

"This is beyond ridiculous."

He watched as the lithe figure sprawled out on the flat, gray rock shifted. The woman arched her back, stretching her arms far above her head and moaning softly with the strain. She didn't look at him, but he knew that her amber eyes had been rolled. "We can't stay in a home every night, Squirt."

She rose into a sitting position, wrapping slender arms around her knees. She lifted her eyes to the sky, rolling her neck to release the weariness. She leapt to her feet as nimbly as if she had slept in a feather bed instead of a luckily smooth and level slab of granite.

He had taken the meager patch of yellowed grass, though the earth was damp and springy, and still couldn't rise as of yet. The woman sensed this and flashed a brilliant, white smile.

"How long until civilization?"

The woman casually flicked dirt from beneath her long fingernails with the very tip of a thin, ornate dagger. "As long as it takes."

The boy let himself fall on his back as he let out an obvious groan.

"You're the one who wanted to tag along, Tadpole," the woman reminded the boy as she sheathed her knife. "I did warn you."

"Somehow, I expected you to use that big head of yours to keep us warm and dry at night!"

The woman shrugged casually. "Sorry, Squirt."

Wincing against the strain in his body, the boy rose to his feet with the help of a tree. If it could be called that, he mused. The wood snapped like a toothpick, offered no shade, and was skinny, barren of leaves, a sickly pale beige color, and shorter than he was.

But, amazingly, it still had its spring. The minute his hands left the tree, it whacked his body like a whip and sent him back to where he had started, on his behind on the ground.

"Tali!" the boy moaned. "A little help?"

Tali flashed that dazzling smile again. "Is something wrong, Midget?"

The boy glared at her, then rose to his feet, brushing off his dark blue robes and adjusting the simple rope belt.

"Aw, come on Squirt," Tali urged cheerily. "Couple more days should do the trick. Then we'll get a bed and bath deluxe, I promise."

The boy decided not to remind her that she had said the same thing since day one, which had been eighteen months ago.

"Can't we ride one of those fat, poofy yellow things?"

"The chocobos?" Tali shrugged as she too straightened her plain blue robes. "We can, if you'd like. But don't you dare say I didn't warn you."

She had warned him. Extensively. She told a lot of stories about the pains of riding bareback on a creature with a bouncing, unpredictable gait.

"And if you can't keep up, I won't wait," Tali finished. It was no idle threat.

"It would cut _days_ off our time!" he argued. "You know how urgent it is we get to Midgar."

Tali looked him in the eyes. "We will lose time, because our muscles are not used to it, and we'd be paralyzed for much longer than our ride's time doubled."

She turned her back to him as she ran her slender fingers down her long, dark braid, fingering the ribbon at the end until it fell to the ground. She kneaded her hair until it was free of its braid, then ran her fingers through it until it fell in a dark cascading river to her waist. She shook her head once, throwing her hair to the side, and then carefully gathered it all in her hands again.

"So, we walk?" he asked.

She began to braid her hair anew with quick, deft movements of her fingers. "No. You can fly if you'd like."

The boy didn't find that amusing. "I'm going to catch me a chocobo."

Tali didn't falter. "Then get out of here. Try to get one that's eating, it's easier."

He started a little. "You're not going to stop me?"

"I'm not your mother." Tail tossed the braid over her shoulder and began to throw dirt over the small fire they had coaxed to life to warm their breakfast to at least a tolerable temperature.

"Well then," he continued, "let me make sure I've got this right so when I get to Midgar before you, I'll do the job right. We're looking for Nadiya and Aidan, twins about my age, with silver hair and green cat eyes. They're in the building that touches the sky."

"_A_ building that touches the sky," Tali corrected casually as she threw leaves over the smoldering remains of her fire.

"How many can there be?"

Tali didn't answer.

"Well, I'll see you then. Papa will be _so_ mad at you!"

He skipped off toward a feathery yellow bump in the distance. Tali shook her head and began to walk.

* * *

He had never hurt so much in his short life.

The ride had been great at first. He had deemed his feathery steed Sunshine and had squealed in delight when they had run as fast as the wind, bouncing happily amid the chocobo's nonsensical warbling.

He had made it until the sun was high in the sky…

And now he was flat on his back, his legs, as Tali had warned, on fire.

He closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would ease the ache, when a shadow had hidden his face from the blaring sun.

"Up, Squirt."

And he was given no warning as he was yanked to his feet. Tali had his hands in an iron lock, and had not stopped for as much as a second to let him regain his bearings. He was forced to walk or be dragged along the scalding sand and sharp rocks.

"You said you wouldn't wait," the boy moaned, hoping she would remember and release him, let him sleep for a little while.

"Nah," Tali said. "I kind of like you, Squirt. Now move. We don't stop until sunset, you've cost us enough time already."

He moaned and fell to his knees, hoping to halt her.

It didn't work.

* * *

A/N: I'm back. Thank you so much for all the thoughts and prayers. They're doing as well as can be hoped. They are amazing people...

I posted a one-shot that I wrote at camp. It's called "He Should Have Been" and it's a pretty...odd...Yuffentine. If that floats your boat, check it out.


	30. Bridge the Gap

Everglow - Chapter Thirty

The children's lives continued as usual. They still went places with Vivian, tried new foods, indulged in regular childhood pastimes. But they sorely felt Vincent's absence.

As a weekend treat and as a reward for being so good for their physical check-ups, Vivian took them to the aquarium. Had the nurse known the wonder these children would get from it, she would have taken them long before.

Nadiya skipped in the near-dark halls and peered into the tanks imbedded in the walls, her pale face glowing a soft blue that rippled with light from the reflection of the water. The effect the lighting and coloration had on her eyes was stunning. They rippled and danced with the waters, sparkled with her glee. She eventually found a tank of softly colored, long tailed fish against a backdrop of a coral reef and plopped her little body on the ground, sitting and staring at the elegant display for the better part of a half-hour.

Aidan was a bit more enthusiastic, hardly spending one minute at a particular tank before sprinting to another, worming his way into crowds of other tourists if he needed to do so, once even getting on his knees and hands and weaving deftly between the legs of the visitors. Vivian did, however, convince him to look closer at the sharks. Once he was stilled, he needed little provocation to stay that way.

One attraction featured a suspended walkway that ran right through a mammoth tank, every wall above, below, and to the sides of them was thick glass that allowed a spectacular view of thousands of aquatic lives and plants. It scared Nadiya at first to see the fish fluttering just inches below her feet, but she soon adjusted, no longer jolting at the flashes of vibrant color or the view of sleek, streamlined bodies approaching.

"Vincent would like those ones!" Aidan cried once, pointing proudly to a new species he had just discovered. He stopped, however, when Vivian didn't reply.

_"He'll come with us next time!"_ Nadiya signed hopefully, cheerily. She was in a place of too much wonder and beauty to be pessimistic.

The ride home was a lot harder than the short ride there. A sharp, cold wind kept trying to rob the twins of their hats. It was so strong that both Aidan and Nadiya had one hand planted on either side of their hats and didn't dare to move them.

That night, Aidan and Nadiya watched with wide eyes as the first snowflakes of winter fell from the sky. This was their first snow to have witnessed firsthand.

Hating to ruin their enthusiasm, but warning them that their small fingers were in danger of freezing off, the twins were taken to a winter wear store and each outfitted heavily. When Nadiya was fully armed with a watertight inner jacket, a heavy down winter's coat, thick mittens, two sets of woolen leggings, boots, knee-high socks, hat, earmuffs, and scarf, she looked like a small lavender puffball, only her green eyes left exposed to blink curiously.

Aidan had outright refused to be dressed as his sister, but had still consented to some light gloves, a heavy coat, and winter boots. When he wasn't looking, Vivian slipped a woven hat into her purchase as well. She hadn't been the only one to exact revenge. When she looked back through the bag after the purchase was made, it seemed that about half of Nadiya's items had disappeared as well. She had thought the bill seemed a little less than expected…

The snow brought on a new wave of activities for the children. They made snow angels and snowmen, constructed an igloo, sledded down a small hill, and then fought behind gleaming snow walls with tightly packed snowballs until they were frozen through their winter gear. Then with flushed cheeks and pale hands, they could sip the steaming hot cocoa to warm them from the inside out and huddle tightly together as they sat over the heater with a large blanket over all of them.

Another treat was quick in following.

As Vivian packed enough of the children's things for a day trip, she explained that Miranda was her mother's sister, Vivian's aunt.

"You had a mother?" Aidan burst out.

"Of course I did, silly!" Vivian smiled as she ruffled his hair. "You think I sprang from a rock?"

_"Can we meet her, Vivian?"_ Nadiya signed excitedly.

Vivian shook her head. "She died a few years ago." Seeing the horrified look on the children's faces, she quickly amended. "She wouldn't want us to be sad. She's in a better place now, all right?"

She was quiet on the way there, even letting Aidan stick his hand out the window and letting it ride on the wind. She quietly mused over all that she knew about her mother's death. Melya Calvin was a nurse and midwife who had been employed to secretly care for a woman who worked hard to hide her pregnancy and even harder to hide who the father was. Under her mother's guidance, the woman had borne twins, a strong, healthy boy and a frail, ailing girl.

Vivian had been in her mid-teens. She remembered it vividly. Melya had shared all she could with her daughter, but that was not much. Vivian didn't understand the danger until much later. She hadn't seen the Turks outside her door and window, or the cameras in every corner and shadow. She hadn't known that, had her mother faltered in her secrecy in the slightest degree, they both would have been killed. She hadn't ever dreamed that she was being held hostage under Professor Hojo's care, the tool for her mother's compliance.

She had known that, when Melya had disappeared, it was because she had broken her oath.

That was eight, almost nine years ago.

_Twins…a boy and a girl…strong and healthy…sickly, probably wouldn't survive her first night…vital the father remained hidden…_

Nadiya and Aidan were that age.

She couldn't believe she hadn't seen it before.

Melya had spoken of the kind, caring woman who so looked forward to raising the souls within her womb. She had related the shock of seeing twins, when only one had been expected. The sorrow at seeing the second so small and frail.

The mother had to be Aralyn, and the father Sephiroth.

This was before Nibelheim, she reminded herself. Sephiroth was a great man, a powerful general, and, evidently, an expectant father.

The pieces were falling into place too nicely to be a coincidence.

She was becoming increasingly anxious to talk to Miranda. Maybe she knew something more about the truth behind the whole occurrence. There were still many questions to be answered and somehow, Vivian suspected that she would have to search farther than her aunt to see it all.

* * *

A/N: Nothing to say, really. Enjoy.


	31. The Marked

Everglow - Chapter Thirty-One

When Vivian had called, she had informed Miranda that she would be accompanied by twin children. Miranda had prepared well. She had not cleaned too much in expectation of her guests, saying, "If I do my job right, and they really enjoy themselves, it'll just be work put to waste anyway." She had various toys out and accessible to the small hands. Left on the table were plates of small snacks that they could reach at will.

Vivian and Miranda embraced warmly the moment the door was open, leaving Nadiya and Aidan to work their way in past the two women. While the twins politely kicked off their shoes and set them nicely by the door, the two parted, exchanging small but heartfelt pleasantries.

Miranda eyed the neat row of shoes and smiled down at the children. "Wow, I am impressed!"

"They're on their best behavior," Vivian assured her smilingly. "They'll get better when they're more comfortable."

Miranda winked at them. "Take your coats and hats off, darlings! Make yourself at home!"

The pair slipped their arms free of the heavy coats, but both chose to leave the hats on.

The women were already seated at the table and sipping cocoa when the children came in, hand in hand. Their eyes were wandering everywhere. They looked at the photographs, beautiful paintings, and all the décor with awe. Vivian smiled and let them wonder. This place had a different feel than the cold corridors of Shinra.

This place felt like a home. Vivian sadly pondered the fact that this might be the first time they had encountered such a phenomenon.

She wouldn't let herself believe that it would be the last.

Miranda noticed her niece's sobering look and peered at the children. She pushed two painted ceramic mugs to them and poured some cocoa from the steaming kettle into the cups, gesturing to the remaining seats at the table. "Sit down, dears. I've got marshmallows and peppermint sticks in the cabinet, would you like to try Snowman Soup?"

Nadiya was still cautious and withdrawn, but that was all it took to win Aidan's heart. Miranda seemed to understand the two, how Aidan needed constant attention and supervision and how Nadiya needed softer feelings and simple understanding. She was sure to include Nadiya in all they did, but she kept her distance, letting Nadiya come to her on her own when she was ready.

That didn't take too long, either. Soon she was grinning widely and clapping in delight with the rest of the group at Miranda's exaggerated tales of what she had been doing the past few months.

"Is that a _baby_?!"

The disbelief in the outburst had been startling. Miranda's small daughter, Amy, had heard the merriment and had decided to waddle her way in. On her hands and knees she had crawled and slid across the hardwood floor until she rested in the doorway connecting her playroom to the kitchen. Seeing as how she had caught some attention, she righted herself so she sat upright, her eyes widening at the new visitors in her home, her pacifier bobbing in and out as she sucked on it with vigor.

Miranda was staring open mouthed at the boy, unable to reply, but Vivian gently put her hands on his shoulders and smiled. "Yes, it's a baby. Isn't she beautiful?"

"A _real_ one?" Aidan asked excitedly.

"Of course!? Miranda cried. Seeing Nadiya's similar wonder and excitement, she threw up her hands. "Where in Gaia were these children raised, Vivian?"

Vivian knew the comment had been made in innocent ignorance, and she would have never said such a thing had she known, but it still made her bite her lip and squeeze Aidan's shoulder in a plea for once, not to answer.

Nadiya proved to be the less fearful of the two, or at least the most excited. She was slowly approaching little Amy with outstretched hands. Amy's pacifier still bobbed softly, but the baby did not move toward or away from her.

When Nadiya reached the infant's side, she stood there, looking down at the baby, unsure of what to do now. "You can pick her up, Nadiya," Vivian softly urged. "Just hold her tightly."

Nadiya looked at Vivian and signed, _"Scared."_

"Scared you'll drop her?" Vivian asked for clarification. "Then sit on the ground and set her on your lap, if it makes you more comfortable."

Aidan ended up being the one to plop the chubby baby in Nadiya's lap. The both of them extended their hands, uncertain of what to do or how to behave around this little stranger.

Amy cooed in excitement. They had guessed her favorite game! She wrapped her small fist around one of Nadiya's fingers and, spitting her pacifier to the side, shoved it into her warm, wet mouth.

"Amy," Miranda scolded, but Nadiya was smiling. The little baby soon found four pale hands aiming for her sensitive stomach and toes, fingers moving rapidly as they tickled the wriggling baby. Aidan was laughing just as hard as Amy and Nadiya's eyes were gleaming, a smile unlike any other Vivian had ever seen on her lips.

Amy managed to writhe loose and began to crawl away, her hands and legs working twice as hard to push her faster, with little results on the slick floor. Still laughing, she led the twins on a chase that led the trio out of view.

"Such sweet children!" Miranda said to Vivian, smiling widely. "How is it that they've never seen a baby before?"

"They lived in a…secluded…home."

"What manners, then!" She continued. "I've never seen a child keep on a hat willingly or refuse to take it off when offered! And that sweet girl's backpack…does she ever part with it?"

"Miranda," Vivian said softly. "There's something I have to tell you. Something I couldn't say on the phone…"

Vivian didn't have to say it. The laughter had been getting increasingly louder, and soon all three children were in view. Amy plowed to a stop in the middle of the floor, so Miranda could see the twins more distinctly.

In all their joyful playing, their hats had fallen off, probably discarded too far away to see. Not that they could have covered their full heads of silver hair anyway. The damage had already been done.

Aidan recognized the shocked, horrified look and his smile was gone, his eyes a flat, poison green and his pupils mere slits. Nadiya shied back, recognizing the danger and freezing in place. Aidan moved in front of his sister, no longer a child, but a lethal guard. His arms were extended, a thin barrier to the ground to either side of his sister. His feet were slightly apart, in what Vivian was horrified to recognize as a swordsman's stance.

It broke Vivian's heart to see the two like that.

"Miranda I can expla—"

Miranda did not reply. She had stared at the twins for half a second and keeled over backward, her body cracking as gravity folded her over a chair. Though she was deeply unconscious, not even the fall able to wake her, the name of the twins' father was still written plain as day on her lips.

"Aidan!" Vivian shrieked. "Call for help!" In her aunt's current position, splayed out as she was on the tile, she couldn't tell if her back had been broken on contact with the chair. Praying that it was only ribs that she had distinctly heard snap, she took her head in her hands and screamed. Vivian didn't dare to move her lest she worsen the damage. She didn't even know if it was safe to _touch _her. She was helpless.

Aidan had made the call; the phone was at his feet, but he had returned to Nadiya's side. In his eyes, her need was greater even than Miranda's.

Tears were pooling from the girl's eyes. In horror she grasped the two silken silver braids that had fallen free and then released them, flinging them away violently as if hoping to rid herself of them. As if to mock her, they fell back, caressing her face, strands falling into her tell-tale eyes.

Vivian didn't have to ask her to sign to see why she was sobbing. The overpowering shame that she was marked as she was couldn't have been clearer.

Nadiya would not be consoled by Vivian, wouldn't listen when she told her that it wasn't her fault. She knew, though she tried in vain, that this was a hurt that she could not possibly mend.

When Miranda was safely in the ambulance, Vivian dialed Vincent's number for the first time in over a week. It was time that Nadiya…that _both_ the twins…heard the full truth about their father.

* * *

A/N: Started off happy, ended really dark. Meh...

Next chapter is our favorite vampire...and maybe his pet Chaos.

And! You officially have to scroll down to check out the next chapter on the menu! Try it!

For the record, I think the page count is in the upper seventies.


	32. Don't Be Ashamed

Everglow - Chapter Thirty-Two

Nadiya wasn't showing any signs of having the least desire to open her door. Vincent still kept knocking, knowing that there was no way she was sleeping despite it being three in the morning.

He hadn't taken Vivian's call directly, hoping that she would leave a message instead. She had. It was three minutes long, most of it indecipherable past her own panicked and weary voice and the sounds of sirens in the background. It hadn't been much, but it had been enough.

"Nadiya," he called. He kept his voice level; he didn't want to be threatening now. "Can I come in?"

He heard the rustle of her soft sheets, but otherwise received no reply.

He looked at the clock behind him. It was now three-thirty, and he had arrived at minutes to two. He didn't mind too much. He could wait.

Nadiya proved to be the less patient of the two. At around four, she figured that Vincent wasn't going away. Her arrival was announced by the soft patter of slippers on the carpet. He knelt, anticipating how she would run straight into his arms.

He remained still in the hallway for quite some time, letting her cry onto his shoulder as he gently stroked her back. When she had exhausted herself, and lay limp and immobile against his chest, he gathered her up and carried her to her bed. She didn't want to be tucked in, preferring to huddle in his cloak instead. Vincent didn't force her.

Nadiya raised her head to look directly at Vincent. She frowned, raising her hands to sign. _"Color…nice."_

Vincent waited a little longer, letting her piece together the few words she did know to communicate what she wanted. _"You…hair. Nice."_ She then fingered Vincent's black, unruly hair and then pointed to her own combed, silken locks.

"I won't let you dye your hair black, Nadiya," Vincent replied.

She tilted her head and then signed, _"Vivian's color?"_

"No. You are not dying your hair. Not blonde, not black, red or purple. _No_," he emphasized again as her hands raised to sign a rebuttal, taking her hands and forcing them to her lap.

She turned her head away, clearly put out, maybe even to the point of anger. He didn't miss how she eyed the pair of childproof scissors on the shelves with her crayons and markers.

"Nadiya," he tried. In trying to rid his voice of the anger and sharpness when he had rebuked her before, he only managed to unveil his weariness. "I need you to listen to me. _Really_ listen."

She was looking away from him, frowning deeply. She didn't want to listen right now; her body language told him that she wanted to be alone.

Vincent paused to design a different approach than the one he'd been planning. "What would your father say when he came back to find your hair a different color?"

She sniffed and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her nightgown. _"He's not ever coming back,"_ she signed.

"That's not true," Vincent insisted. She flinched, apparently he had come on stronger than he intended.

"Nadiya," he tried again, running short on ideas but trying anyway. "I know about everything you've ever heard about Sephiroth. With all that, I suppose I can't blame you for your shame. I don't know a person alive that could shake off something like that. The both of you are stronger than I could have ever imagined, to survive thus far and to hold your heads as high as you have."

"But," he continued, "I can tell you that everything you have ever heard about your father is a _lie_."

He took her damp face in his hands and forced her eyes to his. He couldn't let her shrug this off as not true or just meaningless words meant as condolences. He stared her down, letting her feel the full power of his crimson eyes. If he had to frighten her into listening, so be it.

"You've heard tales of your father's strength, his valor, his courage, but I am going to tell you that he was just a victim."

"The entity Jenova deserves all the blame and more for all the things you've heard. Sephiroth was a prisoner in his own body. He had no control whatsoever once she latched onto his mind."

Nadiya blinked a few times. He couldn't gauge how she was taking this so far. He let her go, letting her slink back into his lap, burrowed beneath his cloak.

"Someday, somehow they will see. Everyone will see. Until then, hold your head high. Never, _ever_ be ashamed of your heritage, Nadiya."

He didn't know if he was helping to mend her hurt or just widen the wound further.

"I'm glad you never saw the anguish he lived through when he regained control. I have never seen a soul so broken as when he laid your mother in her grave, knowing all that he had done. Nadiya, he would give anything in this world to undo the past. He takes no pride in his strength anymore. He sees himself as the vilest creature that has ever lived…he takes no mercy on himself. He doesn't see that he, too, is innocent. That's why I'm praying that _you_ will."

Nadiya wiped her eyes again and nodded, seeming to understand. _"Still hurts,_" she signed. She fingered her braids sadly.

"…I know, Nadiya. I know."

"_Father hurts worse." _She slipped off his lap and wrapped a wing around her body, then let Vincent put the heavy quilt on top of her. In a moment, her eyes brightened and sparkled, and she smiled. _"But Nadiya will make him feel all better!"_

He nodded, not knowing how to explain to her the good it would do for the Soldier to be reunited with his children at long last.

"_Vincent,_" Nadiya signed. _"I love you."_ Without warning she threw her arms around his neck and gave his pale cheek a quick kiss. _"Good night."_

He couldn't remember a time when his thoughts had been clearer. _Sephiroth,_ he thought to himself. _You are blessed beyond measure._

* * *

A/N: A sweet, (dripping with suggary insert adjective-ness) moment with Vinnie and Nadiya. Was going to add Chaos to help Vin-vin prove his point, but decided it would ruin the mood. Ah well...I'll fit him in elsewhere.

Next chapter, Miranda and Vivian find out something vital to the plot!!


	33. Manila Envelope, Scarlet Seal

Everglow - Chapter Thirty-Three

Vivian had breathed much easier once she had received the news. Miranda's back was quite intact; the sharp crack had been three of her ribs and she still suffered from minor internal bleeding and heavy, flaring bruises, but she had been spared from paralysis at the least, death at the worst.

She had regained consciousness within minutes, actually sitting up in the ambulance and demanding that Amy was kept by her side. Ever since then, the infant had perched herself on her mother's knees, Miranda demanding that the damage was on her upper half and Amy would not interfere.

Vivian could not help a smile as she entered the hospital room to see little Amy bouncing on the bed, gurgling, and sucking on the pompom of her stuffed moogle. Miranda interacted as much with her small daughter as she could despite her limited movement.

Miranda turned to see Vivian in the doorway, and her eyes crinkled in a genuine smile. "You, my friend, have a _lot_ of explaining to do."

Vivian hung her head. "I'm so sorry. I should have told you on the phone before I ever…"

"Nonsense," Miranda interrupted, sweeping her hand to the side as if to wipe her slate clean. "I'll be none for the worse."

Vivian thought that an odd thing to say for one attached to an IV and coated from shoulder to waist in plaster. "The children are so sorry. They didn't mean any harm I swear! They wouldn't hurt a fly if it bit them…well; Aidan might if it bit Nadiya. They really are the sweetest, most innocent things. I know about their father but you mustn't judge them by that…"

Miranda tilted her head back and laughed, wincing when she jostled a rib, but still chuckling. "I was never afraid that was the case, Vivian. I know the typical response must be fainting out of horror, but that wasn't what floored me."

Vivian looked up, not understanding.

"Vivian," Miranda continued, suddenly solemn. "Sephiroth came to my door, not a month ago."

"He's _alive_?" Vivian gasped. "He's…_here_? The children…he must come back!"

Miranda raised a finger to her lips to silence her niece. "I'll admit to being terrified when I opened my door to find him just _standing_ there, and he had knocked so timidly it was almost shameful! He threw his sword aside, made it clear that he wasn't going to hurt me. I almost shut the door on him even then. But he was…I don't know."

"What did he want?" Vivian asked.

"He wanted to know where your mother was. When I told him that she was dead, he didn't give up, asking if she had spoken of any twins. I told him that she had, but not in any great detail. Then little Amy…"

Miranda paused, reaching to ruffle Amy's silky, thin hair in thought. "Amy came to the door to see what was the matter, and he looked at her…I can't even describe it. I thought…surely I was just imagining it…but he looked like he was about to cry! He asked me what it was like to be a parent. He looked so infinitely sad, it broke my heart."

She shook her head to bring herself out of her thoughtful daze. "I dismissed it, of course. To think of the great Sephiroth as a father, a _good_ father, just trying to find his children, was impossible. When I saw the twins, I felt this rush and…well…I guess I went into shock pretty bad. I was never afraid. The children are at no fault."

"Nadiya was devastated," Vivian said softly. "She's so ashamed that one look at her hair and wings cause such dreadful things to happen."

"Wings?" Miranda asked, surprised.

Vivian nodded, smiling. "They are breathtaking. Snow white, and big enough to entirely envelop her and most of her brother. She sleeps in her own feather cocoon. They're soft as a dream…"

Miranda smiled. "She really is her daddy's little angel, then. And little Aidan! What a warrior! He'll rival his father, I'm sure of it."

"To think that my mother was the first to welcome them into the world…"

Miranda frowned softly. "Do you understand the magnitude of what that means?"

Vivian shook her head. "My life was purchased with theirs, wasn't it? Mother gave them to Hojo because he had me."

"But in turn," Miranda countered, "you grew up to be the closest thing to a mother that they've ever known. I can see how hard you've worked to give them all the memories a normal childhood would have. Somehow, things worked out all right. That's not to say that I'm not sorry for what they suffered at Hojo's hands, and I'm not sure that Melya was in the right, but who's to say there wasn't a reason you were kept alive? Maybe there's something you need to do, something you must give them that no other could. I can't dismiss this as a coincidence. I think we have yet to see the true depth of Melya's decision and sacrifice…"

"And would you listen to me?" Miranda chuckled. "I sound like an old sage. _You_, young and beautiful as you are, probably have much better things to do than attend to this old woman."

"You're not that old, Auntie," Vivian argued. "And Vincent is caring for the kids."

"Well then you can do this bag of bones a favor." Miranda leaned closer, whispering into Vivian's ear. "In my attic, buried beneath years of junk, is a plain manila envelope, about the thickness of a dictionary and a little taller and less wide. On the front will be your mother's name and a date…around eight years ago, if I'm not mistaken, in black ink. I found it while cleaning up my attic a week ago, seems Melya left me a little gift before she was taken. Maybe it will be of use to you."

"And Vivian, do not be frightened, but the seal on the back…I think that is your mother's blood."

* * *

A/N: Begin scary anthem. Whoo-hoo.

I'm on a roll. Next chapter to be up _at the latest_ tomorrow evening.


	34. Intricate Webbing

Everglow - Chapter Thirty-Four

The envelope couldn't have possibly weighed any heavier on Vivian's mind and heart. It was all exactly as Miranda had promised. The envelope was quite large, the paper thick and hefty, not a wrinkle to be found. The label was written in a neat, practiced hand in a fountain pen, the strokes flowing in and out of each other to the side, above, and below, making one block of elegant text, each letter entwined with some way to another.

But the envelope was lying on her lap, the back facing up.

The ink had indeed once been the rich red hue of fresh blood, but over the course of these eight years, it had dried, fading into an easily distinguishable earthy red-brown. Yes, there was no doubt in her mind that this was her mother's blood.

What disturbed her even more was the nature of the seal. The ink was more concentrated in the center, staining through the thick paper and bleeding to the other side. From that dark origin, the ink fanned out and thinned. A small, dainty woman's hand had been pressed to the paper, and then dragged downward, leaving echoes of the shape from the center.

There was no doubt in her mind what this was.

She did wonder, however, how it was meant to be deciphered, what it was supposed to represent, how she could interpret it.

The soft whisper of weightless fabric caused her head to rise from the dark envelope for the first time in an eternity. Vincent stood in the doorway, his form silhouetted by the illumination behind him against the semi-dark of Vivian's room. It was a harsh, powerful sight, one that caused her to jump, the envelope sliding to the floor as a breathy gasp escaped her throat.

He did not move. His expression was carefully guarded. He didn't have to show any signs for Vivian to see how her startled, frightened reaction had hurt him.

"You…scared me, Vincent! I…you should…" Blustering as her cheeks reddened, she fumbled with the envelope until it was in her hands again. Something in his eyes shifted, and she stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do or how to react to this very drastic change in the atmosphere, until she realized where his gaze was pointed. The way she held the envelope was with the elegant text to her body; he could see nothing but the smeared, bloodied handprint.

Quickly, she flipped the envelope, knowing that it was impossible to hide it any longer, but hoping to quell any conversation on the matter. "Good evening," she tried, managing a sheepish smile.

"…Good evening, Vivian," he returned.

Anticipating the awkward silence that would follow, Vivian dove right into the first thing she could think of. "Thank you for coming. And with my message, I don't even want to know what you thought but we…the twins, that is…really missed you."

Vincent nodded curtly, briskly, acknowledging with something akin to appreciation that she had not mentioned _her_ emotions on his disappearance. Vivian bit it back, though the words burned hot and acrid in her throat.

"Are the twins all right?" Vivian asked worriedly.

"They will both cope with this in their different ways," Vincent answered, not affirming or denying the validity of her question. When he saw how that didn't satisfy her, he added, "Given time, they will be fine. Is Miranda well?"

Vivian smiled softly. "Well enough to be sitting and playing with her infant child and joking with me simultaneously." She didn't allow a pause in the dialogue, she slowly retold everything Miranda had told her about her visit with Sephiroth to Vincent, who listened with passive, blank eyes.

"…I see…" he spoke musingly to no one in particular, raising his head to the ceiling in thought.

"What are you thinking?" Vivian dared to venture.

"I am thinking that you haven't told me the whole story."

She cringed. She hadn't told him about the envelope on purpose. She wished his senses for seeing these hidden tidbits were just a little less keen.

Wordlessly, she handed the envelope to Vincent, who handled it firmly in his human hand. She let him examine the text on the front and then, musingly, run his gauntleted hand down the streaks of blood on the back.

"When did you get this?" he asked in a straightforward, matter-of-fact way.

"In Miranda's attic yesterday at noon…"

He shook his head. "I misspoke. I apologize. When did Miranda first acknowledge that this was in existence?"

"She said she found it a few weeks ago, when she was cleaning."

"And not before? Does she clean often?"

While trying to deduct where he was going with this, she nodded. "She's very obsessive over the cleanliness of _all_ her house…the basement and attic included."

"Do you see what that means?" Vincent asked, handing the envelope back but retracting his arm back quickly and harshly after she had gripped the paper. He was keeping a marked, precise distance between the two of them. Vivian tried to ignore this, and concentrated on what he was saying.

"The envelope had to be placed there recently. Your aunt would have seen it before if it was any other way." He glided a step closer, his cloak sighing behind him, as he used one bronze tipped finger to point to the hand on the back. "As if to add to my point, this handprint is clearly years old and probably authentic. However, the hand seems to have been deliberately placed below the line where the top is sealed. The adhesive, when folded over, would not cover the print. I don't believe in coincidences, it was most likely by design. This print was made eight years ago, but was sealed not more than a month ago. Your aunt found this within the last week. This makes me think the contents will span from eight years ago up until now."

"But my mother died eight years ago and this is her handwriting on the front!"

"I do not doubt that. What I'm saying is that someone with a very in-depth knowledge of you and your aunt's lives has been keeping the record for her these eight years. Your mother started that file; that does not mean it was completed with her death."

He let that sink in, and then moved away, retracting his hand. "I would open that with care, Vivian. Someone is following you, and while their intentions are still unknown, I would _not_ assume that they are benign."

"But why would they want…?" Vivian trailed off, knowing and dreading the answer.

"Aidan," Vincent said bluntly. "Nadiya. You're the most blatantly obvious path to them."

Vivian couldn't begin to comprehend this complex web of questions and answers. Her head was spinning. What she feared even more than the answers the thin, frail strings of questions would inevitably lead to, was the spider in the middle of it all. The mastermind. So much had happened. Were they really all separate circumstances or were they all connected somehow?

"I will be poking around town a bit. I'll see what I can find, but no promises. I won't stray far. I am still, first and foremost, the twins' guardian."

"They couldn't ask for a better one," Vivian said, smiling a little.

He didn't take the compliment at all.

"And Vincent?"

He raised an eyebrow, urging her to speak.

"I missed you, too."

* * *

A/N: I met my deadline!! Yay!

Okay, for those of you who are wanting something less dark, that's coming up. For those of you wanting action, boy are you all in for a treat. :D


	35. Date of Birth

_A/N#1: These next two chapters are the last of the peaceful ones, I promise. Action is scheduled to ensue starting on chapter Thrity-Seven._

Everglow - Chapter Thirty-Five

Rufus was in the process of putting together important data that might help to delay Hojo's claim a little bit, but as of yet, it was just a small pile of meaningless documents. One of these, however, was the rough draft of the twins' birth certificates, as the originals had not been on record (probably also due to Hojo's meddling). They hadn't been notarized yet, but all the data was there.

Vivian was appalled to see that the date of birth was in less than a week.

When she asked about why they hadn't told her, they regarded her with nothing other than confusion. "Yeah, so?" Aidan asked. "It's just the day we were born." Nadiya had simply shrugged in agreement with her brother, picked up a different color crayon and returned to her art.

Apparently it hadn't been an event of high note on Hojo's agenda.

Vivian didn't let them in on the secret just yet. But the twins did notice that she was gone on "urgent errands" for a good, long portion of the week. Miranda filled in on babysitting duty, little Amy tagging along.

Vincent was on constant guard, always in the shadows and never more than a whisper's length away. As such, he wasn't able to stop Vivian from her own prying.

He was not pleased with what she managed to find.

"Your birthday's just after the twins'!" Vivian cried, holding up the document from his days in the Turks that confirmed it. "You could have told me!"

He hated how she had managed to defy his most piercing glare as she told the children of this wonderful coincidence. It didn't mean much to them yet, but he knew that after they saw what a fuss was made over their birthday, he would not be spared the festivities.

So on Nadiya's fairy calendar, two dates were circled: October third in purple and blue with dainty pink hearts, and the thirteenth in dark red.

On the morning of the third, Vivian hunted Vincent down, handing him three tickets to the carnival and pointing out the door with the command, "Keep them busy until one-thirty."

Nadiya and Aidan were thrilled to find that Vincent would be taking them on their next adventure. They didn't even particularly mind that he was significantly less enthusiastic than they were.

After long hours filled with rides and games, the trio made their way back to Shinra. Aidan had a face tinted light pink and blue and sticky from the cotton candy, Nadiya holding a large stuffed chocobo that Vincent had won for her at the shooting range. Both of their tongues were a bright red from the cherry shaved ice and their lips were misted with powdered sugar from the funnel cakes.

Needless to say, their first destination was the restroom, where Vincent gently mopped their faces with a damp rag and soap. He straightened Aidan's hair and smoothed down all the frizz he had obtained from wearing his red hat all day long. He similarly prepared Nadiya and helped to ease her wings out of her backpack, noting that either her wings were getting bigger or her backpack was getting smaller.

They were very bouncy on the way to the room, Aidan still reciting the day's events as if Vincent hadn't been there. He was very proud of himself for going on the "big rollercoaster", forgetting that it was Vincent who had shoved him in the seat and bolted him in before he could worm his way out of it.

All of that energy and enthusiasm, however, vanished the moment they stepped across the doorway, the lights flipped on, and they were greeted with a million vivid colors, a myriad of sounds, and more people than they had _ever_ seen in their room yelling, "Happy birthday!"

Nadiya, scared out of her mind, ran out of the room crying. Vincent was gone for ten minutes reassuring her that this was a _good_ ambush.

She was greeted more subtly when she entered the second time, but with all the love of the first.

Nadiya and Aidan were escorted in to the gym, which had been decorated with streamers and balloons of all kinds. The confetti they had been showered with the first time was still on the floor, but Vivian still had a little left to sprinkle into Nadiya's hair.

The guests waited around the table, some of them not visible behind the small mountain of brightly wrapped gifts. Aidan and Nadiya scampered to their decorated thrones of honor, Aidan smiling widely, enjoying the attention, while Nadiya's smile was more timid and reserved.

Tifa had brought Denzel and Marlene, who sat beside Yuffie, who was already wearing a party hat and lounging her feet on the light blue tablecloth. Miranda was bouncing Amy on her lap, taking the little hand and waving it at the twins as the baby blew bubbles for them. Cid hurriedly extinguished his cigar at Vincent's heavy glare. Vincent was surprised to find everyone of Avalanche present except Cloud, some seemingly grudgingly, but at least no weapons were drawn.

He wouldn't bet money that they hadn't brought them, though. He had to wonder if they were party guests or guards for Marlene and Denzel.

Vivian did not seem to think this, or if she did she was doing a good job of ignoring it. Her job was giving the twins the party of their lives, and she was going to see that nothing ruined it.

Nadiya was given a plastic silver crown studded with false amethysts and trimmed with bows of fake pearls and lavender ribbon that tied around the brim and hung down Nadiya's silver hair. Aidan's was gold with rubies, the crown slipping down past his eyes until he found a way to balance it behind his ears.

Vivian snatched Cid's lighter and went behind a counter, pulling out a frosted monstrosity from the freezer and lighting the nine candles. As she approached, everyone, even Cid and Barret, began to sing to them, Vincent stooping down between them and singing softly in their ears.

When the song finished and the cake placed before them, they were both beaming with excited joy. The blue frosted cake was trimmed with white butter cream icing in soft frills, the top decorated with dark blue icing roses and curling green vines, "Happy Birthday Aidan and Nadiya!" written in white across the top.

Vincent had never seen such a carefully sculpted cake. He also knew that Vivian had made everything by hand in the dead of night for the last three nights.

"Blow out the candles!" Vivian urged. "And make a wish!"

Both the twins looked at each other and smiled. Their wish was the same.

_Let this last forever!_

Both drew in a huge breath and then released it at the same time. Vivian's camera flashed and everyone was clapping. None of the candles had survived the twins' combined assault.

Vivian produced a large and hefty knife from the drawer and asked Vincent to hand out the paper plates. Under that thick layer of icing was layer after layer of hardened ice cream, chocolate cake, whipped cream, and fudge while at the bottom was a large brownie crust. She had underestimated how hard it would be after forming in the freezer for the past twelve hours. Vincent took the knife from her after her attempts produced only a crevice in the icing and handed her the plates in return.

The first pieces, the biggest ones with the most icing roses on top and the most voluminous frills on the side, were served to the radiant twins first. There was no shortage of cake. After everyone had been served once and most having had seconds, there was still half of it left. Everyone, even Yuffie, was fully satisfied.

* * *

A/N#2: Long, fluffy, overall quite pointless, but come ON...fluff can be good, right? No?

The idea was just too cute to pass up. And next chapter, we have the arrival of some old friends that have fallen out of the picture...

Next chapter is actually substancial to the plot. Promise. Even if you can't quite see it yet. Still fluff. Action starts in 37. Thanks for hanging in there!


	36. Gifts Large and Small

Everglow - Chapter Thirty-Six

The attention turned next to the presents piled in the center. "They're all for you," Vivian explained. "You rip the paper off each one to see what's inside."

Nadiya frowned and signed, _"But the paper is pretty! I don't want to rip it…"_

"If you open it carefully, you can save most of the paper," Vincent suggested.

So when Aidan urged her to go first, she thought a moment, and then saved only a big enough scrap to be able to see the argyle pattern. She fingered the tag that said it was from all of Avalanche, and smiled at everyone, signing a _"Thank you"_ in advance. From the reactions given, it was clear to see that it was more from some members of Avalanche than from others.

Inside was a fairly thick book on origami and many pre-cut pieces of paper in all colors and prints. While confused at first, Nadiya got the point by thumbing through the book, and clapped her hands happily, signing her thanks again and again until Vincent was sure her hands would fall off. Tifa smiled, genuinely happy to have made Nadiya's day. She accepted the hug graciously and patted her back kindly. Yuffie tried to settle for just patting her head, but ended up nearly strangled by the happy girl in the end.

Aidan was now very anxious to start his end of the fun. He tore a little scrap off his yellow and green checkerboard print first, handing it to Nadiya so her little collection could grow. That set aside, he tore into the paper like a ravenous carnivore into its meal.

The members of Avalanche ended up sticking with the sports theme for Aidan. From all of them, he received a dart board to mount on his wall. From Denzel, he was given a remote control car. When Nadiya opened her gift from Marlene, she found a soft, fabric doll with braided blonde hair that fit very nicely on her hip. That concluded the gifts from the group, and they tried to sidle away, not quite comfortable with the situation, but Vivian managed to persuade them to stay so the children could participate in the games that were to come.

Still diligently collecting paper scraps for Nadiya, the twins opened a single box that was addressed to the both of them. In bold, hard printed letters, the small, businesslike card read "With regards, Rufus Shinra." Inside had been twin silver watches. They were of more worth to Vincent, however. Through a small chip in the clock, he could locate them as long as they wore them. Miranda had given them each 100 gil, saying that it would be an experience for them to have a little pocket money to spend on their own.

The twins were shocked to find, buried under some of the more bulky ones, two packages wrapped in dark red paper with a neat, black bows. "I wonder who those are from…" Vivian said.

From Vincent, who still remained coldly in the corner, Nadiya received a heart shaped-silver locket. In the middle of the mirror-smooth surface, the shape of a wing and her name had been etched delicately in gold. Nadiya held the locket close to her heart, cradling her new treasure. Vivian could not tell how Vincent reacted fully. When she embraced him, burying her head in his side, he only gently patted her back and shooed her back to her seat.

Aidan was awed by a small shark tooth tied on a black woven cord. Vincent didn't respond when Aidan said, "Thanks! You're the coolest!"

"You know," Vivian said softly to Vincent as they dove into next package. "It is their birthday. You could open up a little."

"Vincent, what is this?"

Aidan and Nadiya held between them two hand-sewn patchwork quilts, the colors schemes on one a light, baby blue and the other a soft, delicate purple, both lined in moonlight silver and a pure white.

"Your mother made those," Vincent began quietly. "When she was pregnant with you, she didn't know whether to expect a boy or a girl, so she made one to fit each. When you both showed up…well, these were meant to be the blankets you would be born into."

Nadiya held the lavender blanket to her heart, burying her face in its soft embrace, Vivian having the suspicion that she was crying. Aidan held his softly, tenderly, like a holy and precious relic.

Vincent couldn't have possibly given them a more priceless gift.

Vincent's head flailed forward, his arms uncrossing from the open-handed slap against the back of his head.

"Heya, immortal," a young voice laughed. "We came to crash a party and we get a memorial. Aren't we supposed to have fun? And where's the cake; I'm starving!"

Vega laughed into Vincent's softening eyes. Yazoo hefted a large, heavy object down from his shoulders.

"We heard it was a special birthday," he said playfully to the two children, each fingering their own silver hair.

"Remnant to remnant," Avalanche heard Vivian whisper, judging by her pleased tone that there was no threat to anyone there for the moment.

"So are you going to open it up or let it sit in the package forever?" Vega smiled and urged them on. "From Vivian and the both of us. Happy birthday, implings!"

Nadiya nodded gratefully and went first. She pulled the paper carefully back at first, and then with eyes wide tore into the paper after she had seen her first hint of what her gift was.

Nadiya stared dumbfounded at the full sized, professional grade piano keyboard in her lap and the light pink beginner learner's books that had slipped from where they had been tied with ribbon to the package.

"I saw how much you liked that player the other day," Vivian said. "If you don't like it or just don't want that commitment, we'll take it back and use the money for something else. You don't have to decide today, honey."

But Nadiya was already attacking the tape with a determined glow in her eyes. Vega laughed, and even Yazoo managed a smile.

"Later, Nadiya," Vivian urged. She accepted the hug as thanks and gently set the books and the keyboard aside.

"Now for Aidan!" Vega chirped. In the transition from her arms to the boy's, though, the gift slipped, jarring harshly against the floor.

Vivian winced visibly. "Careful!" she urged, fearful for the condition of the package.

"If it broke because of _that_," Yazoo assured her coolly, "you picked the wrong one for sure."

Aidan hadn't waited for the introduction, however. Before anyone could warn him, he was already holding a sturdy, steel-enforced wooden trainer's sword and, in leather sheathe, a short, bet very real and very lethal katana.

"Do you understand what this means, Aidan?" Yazoo asked.

There was no childish joy on his face for this gift. Instead, as he drew the blade with a soft whisper of metal, his face was solemn and grave. "I don't think so," he said softly, his voice already sounding older with this added responsibility. "Not fully."

Yazoo nodded in approval. "That is why I think you are ready."

Aidan pointed the tip to the sky and laid his forehead against the flat of the blade, closing his eyes and sitting very still for a long time.

"I'll come over often and teach you to use this," Yazoo promised. "Kadaj wasn't the only one to learn how to use a sword."  
Avalanche shifted very uncomfortably. Vega shoved Yazoo playfully.

"Forget what he said," she laughed, "I taught him everything he knows, but not everything I know." She turned to Nadiya. "I also grew very distinguished on that key-thingy there."

Nadiya motioned for Vega to try it out. Vega sat professionally on the floor, making a scene out of rolling up her sleeves and clearing her throat before setting her thin hands on the keys. Everyone had to look twice to watch her fingers spill out the melody that rang through the room.

"So the both of you have a lot of training to do."

"But later!" Vivian urged. "One last thing for the both of you." She walked into a small closet, talking as she walked. "I couldn't really wrap these, so you'll just have to do with…"

She was leading two bikes out of the closet, smiling radiantly.

"Ooh," Vega said excitedly, clapping her hands together. "Are those for me?"

Aidan and Nadiya rushed to claim their prize before Vega got to it.

"Now, while the big people talk about big, boring things, you two can go outside with Marlene and Denzel to play!" Once they were safely mounted on the bikes, she pushed the back wheel along. The training wheels squeaked and Aidan frowned. "I'll take them off once you've proven you can go without them," Vivian assured them. "Now shoo! Out!"

* * *

A/N: More explanation on Vega and Yazoo's part and Avalanche's behavior to come. Right now it's a little muddy, I WILL fix that.

Anyone ready for some action? I know I am...


	37. Assassin

Everglow - Chapter Thirty-Seven

He couldn't see in the dark, but he could feel their heat, almost smell their sweat, and knew he was close.

It was an exhilarating feeling, to know that the hunt was nearing its climax. Chills of excitement ran down his spine. It was a warm, familiar experience, first felt when he was still a child on the streets, fighting for food and shelter.

Now, he thought, his lips curling into a sneer, he fought for much, _much_ more. His last customer had paid with rubies from his family mine, but current employer was paying him in cold, solid gold. He had seen the mammoth reward himself. The pact was made; all that was needed was the blood of his prey to seal it.

He almost felt sorry for the poor man. Even to employ an assassin of his caliber, the price of even such a vital job would typically be less than one-third of what he was going to receive. His employer hadn't even needed to see his vast credentials in his craft or a demonstration of his wide range of expertise, all he had needed was a man to do the job, do it right, and do it the first time.

For such a reward, he would be a fool to refuse. He was the best of his or any guild, and now he would live as such.

And the fates had favored him on his journey. The winds over the sea had been with them, cutting weeks off the time of his travel. The temperatures on this new continent had been temperate, maximizing his speed on the easy, springy terrain. He ate well, thriving on the abundant wildlife and never thirsting from the frequent rivers.

Only recently had he entered the harsher desert, and even then, was blessed with clouds to shield the light of the moon, a light wind to drown the sound of his footfalls, and the shifting sands that would not affect his keen eyes, but would make him as invisible to others as he would have been in the dense forests.

The meager fire was the beacon, as obvious to his eyes as a plume of fire might have been. Even as the winds stole the life of the flame, he could detect the location by the hair-thin whisper of smoke ascending to the stars.

He could not have asked for a more perfect location to stage his battle.

He now could see the shapes of two sleeping figures on the ground, the smaller one quivering against the chill of the desert night but the other lying still, sleeping deep, not affected by the elements. He looked deeply at the restless young boy, and then, examined with even more scrutiny the beautiful, lithe young woman across from him. What had their names bee again? Perhaps it was of no importance. If it was significant, his employer would have been sure that he remembered it. No, the blue robes were enough to show him that this was his prey. That was all they would ever be to him.

Content that they would not wake, not that they could see him if they did, he sat against a rock and analyzed every last detail, adding the final touches to his plan.

The boy, he decided, could go in the traditional way. To slide a knife across such a small, thin throat would be simpler than cutting into soft butter. He would die instantly, without a sound, unable to alert his companion with the last of his life's breath. He would offer no resistance.

But the woman…

He could not kill her while she dreamed so peacefully. To do so would be an insult to both their strengths. No, to duel this legendary maiden, to win against her in an honorable fight would be worth almost as much as his reward back home. The way she laid on the cold sands, poised with grace even in her sleep, was tantalizingly beautiful. She would give him a spectacular fight, one he would remember for the rest of his life. He would savor the thrill of the battle and then, as fate delivered her into his hands, her pleading surrender just before the final, merciful blow.

After all, his next two victims were mere children, despite how his master had warned about the strength and legacy of their parentage. They would offer no pleasure. It would be almost _boring_. A dull, monotonous job. Just one well placed strike if he was in a good mood, maybe a multiple rougher ones if he wasn't, just to hear their dying screams, and that would be that. This was the only target out of the four he had been given that would be a challenge to kill. He wasn't about to let this one chance at fun to slip away.

This was his ticket to riches and, if he managed to bring back a shred of evidence that he had indeed taken the life of the woman, untold fame.

"Yes," he cooed passionately to the dead winds. "This will be a night to remember."

* * *

A/N: Action-y enough for everyone? :D

Next chapter, the duel. So...still action-y. Done with sappy and happy (that rhymed!!) for a while.


	38. Duel

Everglow - Chapter Thirty-Eight

Tali was woken in the dead of night by nothing at all.

At first she had attributed it to Midget's snoring; she never could believe how much ruckus that little boy could make even when asleep. But he was strangely still. The elements were too mild to have affected her. The fire was gone out, but that wouldn't wake her.

What had it been, then?

The answer came quickly enough. In a heartbeat she leapt to her feet, two of the seventeen knives she kept in various sheathes on her body already drawn in less than the blink of an eye. There was no sound other than the soft whisper of the sands. The sands flew, tickling her face and bare neck, but that wasn't what caused the gooseflesh to run down her spine.

She knew all too well that this was optimal terrain for an ambush with the weather like it was. It was a little _too_ convenient that the soft sigh of the wind was just enough to muffle careful footsteps without the natural disguise being overly obvious. The veil of grays and ambers and maroons was too natural to be feigned, but once again, just enough to provide security.

She knew better than to brush aside her instincts in a time like this. Her eyes, her ears, detected nothing, but some hidden sense was ringing with alarm.

"Squirt," Tali hissed. "Squirt, on your feet!"

"Wha' is it 'Ali?" the boy moaned through a yawn. "Not even dawn yet…"

"On your feet!" Tali screamed, the night ringing with her cry. "Ready yourself!" She was now speaking not only to Squirt, who had indeed been startled into wakefulness, but the shadow that was seen only by her heart.

"Stand back to back with me," she commanded, softer, but no less intense. She did not budge as she felt the boy do as he was told. Without removing one hand from the battle position, she offered one knife to the boy hilt first. He took it, his hand shaking. Tali drew three more, positioning them between her fingers so one hand was armed with three blades, like a cat's claw.

"Do you need any more than that, Andrite?"

The boy gulped. If she was tense enough to use his real birth name, they were both in very grave danger. This hadn't even happened before on their entire journey, and they had been through some hairy situations.

"I can't even wield one…"

Tali didn't scoff as she normally would have. "Feet apart, one in front of the other. Center your weight, prepare to focus all your strength wherever it may be needed. If you even _think_ something moved, don't think, just lunge. I'll cover for what you can't handle."

_Which will be everything,_ Andrite thought worriedly.

But he didn't have to fight at all.

With no warning, Tali's arm arched back until it was level with Andrite's eyes, balancing a knife between the pads of her index finger and thumb. Her whole body lunged forward and downward with the extension of her muscled arm as she heaved the blade, and with a blur of silver, lethal power, the knife flew into the shadow.

A pained cry, but not a cry of death, gave Tail a position to aim for, and then she was off.

* * *

He cursed his luck, suddenly forgetting how it had aided him up until this moment. It didn't matter now. If the fates were against him in this pivotal moment, all would be lost.

The knife, thankfully, had struck his weaker arm, but it was, nonetheless, buried to the hilt in his shoulder, carving through skin, muscle, tendon and bone to protrude from the other side.

He was not even in the fight yet, and was already at a grave disadvantage. It didn't matter that his predominant hand was intact, it would avail him nothing if he was blinded by pain.

But he was resilient. He had encountered situations where he had been forced to adjust similarly before. She was close, closer than he would have liked, when he regained his senses, but it was enough to prepare for the onslaught.

So she had gained a small victory, he thought. It would still be her last.

Her arm arched back again, the thin silver blade glinting in the moonlight as she charged forward. He stepped to the side as she threw, the knife burying itself so deep into the sands that it was no longer visible but for the simple wooden pommel. It had been too close. It had hit not three finger-widths from his right foot.

This really would be a challenge.

When she was so close that he could hear her rapid breathing there were no longer knives in her hand, but a short rapier. Short as it was, it was still hard to deflect her blow and stop that massive momentum with only his much shorter, much stubbier dagger. The force threw him backward and to his knees, but his resistance caused her to falter back as well. The rebound on both sides did not last long.

This time he had been given the time to draw a similarly crafted rapier, and thus equipped, he was more able to stand the force of her swift blows. He deflected, slipped silently to the side like liquid darkness, and evaded her with fluid precision more than he met her blows. He was silent, while her war cries seemed to echo off the very sands.

He took time to admire her skill. He wasn't in any hurry to finish the job, so why not learn a bit. The way she moved with such grace, agility and raw power was astounding. Her footwork was flawless, her technique well developed and her reflexes quick. He was honored to have such a worthy opponent.

But her beauty soon became boring to him, and with one forward lunge, locked her blade with his, chancing with not his entire strength yet, but holding her a bay all the same, even with one hand limp and useless at his side.

He enjoyed watching her reactions to this deadlock too. How she drew back, letting him dominate only a little before striking back to seize her ground and more, was a very intricate game that toyed with even his own reflexes and judgment. She was counting on a boost of pride on his part when she let him win to fuel her own rebuttal and to his surprise, it was a hard tactic to resist. Only on the third attempt, after two shallow wounds on his arms, was he able to withstand this tactic.

He would have liked to learn from her, and it seemed a true shame to destroy such skill, but he did have a job to do. With a flick of his wrist, he knocked her off balance, and then rammed his elbow into her ribs while she flailed on one foot, flinging her to the sands to skid several feet before she came to rest, sprawled out on her stomach.

He rammed a steel tipped and pointed shoe into her side, causing a gasp of pain as she was forced onto her back. She laid there, oddly submissive, not even trying to fight.

He was ashamed at how little it took to break her. He had expected more.

But he soon found that she wasn't broken at all.

He would curse his stupidity until the day he died, but at the moment, he was drunken with the victory, with pride that had blinded him. He had knelt by her side, reveling how her eyes widened with fright as he approached her. Laughing darkly, he had drawn the jeweled dagger he carried and hand prepared to slowly slip it up to her throat. He wanted to do this slow, to see the terror in the legendary warrior's eyes.

But she had plans of her own, and submitting hadn't been one of them.

Without warning, she had sat up abruptly, her face an inch from his. In her hand was a knife, and with the force of throwing her body upward, she had pressed it into his chest.

Now it was her that stood above him, face furious, weapons drawn and ready. "Who sent you?" she hissed. When he didn't answer, she grabbed him by the shoulders, taking no heed of the dagger still embedded there, lifted him and slammed him into the ground repeatedly with all her strength, "_Who sent you?!"_

When his lips had remained sealed for such a time that tried even her epic patience, she rammed her palm to his face with a savage roar, grasping the mask he kept his features veiled with and ripping it from him.

That was _her_ mistake.

The fury was gone. The anger, the hate, the rage, drained in a split second. She was gasping now, clutching her heart, eyes clouded.

"…Kanu?"

That was something unexpected, he thought. So it was her. He had passed her similar looks to his past lover off as a coincidence, but now he couldn't see how he had able to deny it.

"Kanu? It's me…Tali!"

So the girl from his childhood, that lanky, awkward, ugly girl, was now this elegant fighter, the legendary woman whose name was spoken with reverence and awe.

"…Kanu?"

Suddenly, she no longer held any more appeal over him, though she was a thousand times more beautiful and shone with the radiance that had been denied her in her youth.

She was whom he had been sent to kill. She was his ticket to riches.

That was all that mattered.

But let her recover, he reasoned. They would meet again and then, at full strength and knowing the truth, he would see how the warrior fared. He had moved on, but had she?

He knew from the way she cried for him as he fled into the night that she hadn't.

He was looking forward to their next duel, but first, he would take care of the twins. Though not nearly as satisfying, that, at least, would be a piece of cake.

* * *

A/N: Fight scenes aren't my forte, but I don't think I did too badly. Action, as promised.


	39. First Victim

Everglow - Chapter Thirty-Nine

Now that Nadiya and Aidan were gone, the tension was much higher. It was not hostile, thankfully, but it was no less uncomfortable. Avalanche could not strike. They had already killed Yazoo and Vega once, and that had been the first domino leading to Aralyn's death. The pair seemed to hold no grudges; after all, Aerith had sent them back and that had been that, no permanent harm done. Still, the atmosphere was far from comfortable.

"Why did you come?" Yuffie asked first.

"I could ask you the same," Yazoo answered. "And I suspect the answer you gave would also fit the question of why you are not attacking me."

Yazoo was right, and everyone knew it. Everyone around the table had different degrees, but all of them struggled with the shame of having a portion of Aralyn's death on their hands. Even knowing that it would have happened anyway did not offer any consolation.

"I guess saying we're sorry wouldn't quite be enough," Tifa said.

Vega shook her head. "What's past is past. We have more important things to worry about." She smiled genuinely at the group, but there was darkness in her eyes that told the others that there was a storm coming.

"We didn't come only for the birthday," Yazoo began. "We bring some troubling news."

Vega fished out a folded piece of paper from her pocket. On it was the photo of the helicopter that Rufus had shown them before, the ones that had been the driving factor of the raid on that first night. "You remember these? The insignia? The motto?" Acknowledging everyone's nod, she continued. "I don't know how much you've heard, but without a shadow of a doubt, Hojo is the leader of this group, and the raid was an emergency mission to recover the twins after they escaped. He wants them back. He's claimed them, and as of now, there's nothing we can do to refute him."

"You must have heard about the ultimatum," Yazoo picked up where Vega left off, but stopped when this was met with confusion. "The weapon," he tried, with more success. "Have you been told what it is?"

"Only I have," Vincent said quietly, darkly, his human fist and golden claw clenched tightly.

"Well, then, you will understand the gravity of the situation when I tell you that it has been unleashed. Only limitedly, as a warning to us, but it's been unveiled nonetheless."

Vincent looked down, hiding his expression behind his crimson collar.

"We brought with us the…the first victim," Vega said mournfully. "If the weapon is let loose, she will be the first of thousands to be exposed to that fate. When…_if_ you see her, you will see just how strong a warning this is."

"Enough games, please!" Tifa cried. "Tell us! We deserve to know!"

Yazoo turned to Vincent, whose gaze darkened but he still spoke. "I was told that this weapon was biological. That is why we can't take the twins' freedom by force. If one spore of the substance was released to the winds, life as we know it would be over. An attack is just asking for him to release it all." Vincent's eyes turned to Vega. "And I assume that this…disease…is just as bad as Rufus made it out to be?"

Vega shook her head. "It is beyond anything that I could have ever dreamed in my life. Hojo truly does hold the world at his mercy now, he was not exaggerating."

"Where is the girl?" Vincent demanded.

"Contained. In the labs, I do believe. That was the only place that had the security to house her. The scientists here are taking no chances with her."

* * *

She couldn't possibly have been older than four or five years old. Vincent's blood boiled. Of course Hojo would have chosen an innocent child to be his first victim. It made his message a thousand times stronger to see such a tender little soul in this state.

She was in a room with only one window, and that was not to view the outdoors, but so that she could be watched over from the hallway. She was curled up in the little bed in the corner, crying and shivering. Vincent could read her lips enough to tell that she was calling for him to help her.

"You shouldn't stare, Valentine."

Rufus was at his side, looking at the girl alongside him. Vincent's eyes flared with his rising anger. "Surely you can afford her more comfort than your typical lab rat," he growled darkly.

Rufus raised a hand and pointed into the cell at a large metal capsule. "That is what Vega and Yazoo found her in. You wouldn't believe in how many ways it was sealed, how long it took for even our most skilled technicians to get her out." Vincent examined the capsule. She would have to be curled uncomfortably to fit, possibly in the fetal position. There was a window that would have allowed Vega and Yazoo to see her face, but beyond that was shielded in metal.

"She was submersed in mako, Vincent. And it was mostly crystallized. There was some kind of freezing device that made the mako nearly solid. She was quite literally entombed. We still have to be cautious with her, surely you can see that, but at least now she can move. We are preparing toys and proper bedding and such to be specially sent in to her to help it seem less of a prison. Anything she asks, we are giving it to her."

Vincent looked at the thin body for a little longer. "What can you do for her?"

"Nothing except try to ease the pain of her symptoms. Even that is largely beyond our grasp. No one has ever seen anything like this. There is no cure, no treatment."

When Vincent didn't reply, Vincent continued. "We are studying her in the most humane way we can. We told her that we need to see what's wrong with her and try to fix it. I would be lying to you if I said that we weren't experimenting on her, but she has consented, and we're only trying to find a cure for this."

Vincent thought about this. The consent of a toddler? What did she know of these things? There was only one way they could make her understand and agree to this. "You told her you might be able to save her."

"Yes."

"And what are the chances of that?"

Rufus hesitated. "Slim to none. This will take time. Time that she does not have. We can only hope to learn from her and save others."

"How many have been in to see her?"

"Only doctors and professors dressed in full biohazard gear. There is a team of seven, and a nurse came in once just to keep her company for a while."

"…What is her name?"

"Lyn. She's five years old." Rufus let him think this through for a while. "Do you remember the motto on the airplane?"

"It was muddled," Vincent answered.

"We believe that now we have seen this, we can pretty accurately say what it was."

_Mor C m Te re Nov Ve it_

"Mors Cum Terrore Novo Venit," he said. "It's Latin."

"What does it mean?"

"Death has come with a new terror."

Vincent looked at little Lyn, quivering in the corner with streams of tears running down her cheeks, and thought that Hojo couldn't have picked a more accurate motto.

* * *

A/N: I pormise that Hojo will get EVERYTHING he deserves. A bit of a break from the action, but I answered a lot of questions in this here chapter.

plan: ch40-another high action. ch41-a small, short break. ch42-the action will kill you. Chapter 42 marks the turning point of the story. Note, I did not say the end. :D


	40. Close Call

Everglow - Chapter Forty

It had been good for the twins to play with children their own age. The four had gotten along nicely and played all kinds of games. Marlene introduced Nadiya to jump rope and sidewalk chalk while Aidan and Denzel scampered in and out of sight with water guns. Eventually they got the boys to swing the rope while Nadiya and Marlene jumped simultaneously, doing a clapping routine to the beat of the rope.

They had a hard time leaving, but Tifa and Vivian promised to reunite them again before long.

Now they were both tucked snugly into their beds, their mother's quilts draped over the both of them. Both had fallen asleep quickly and without protest; it had been a long, joyful day, and they were tired. Satisfied that she had pleased them so, Vivian turned on Nadiya's nightlight and then turned out the lights. She would be glad for a good night's rest as well.

_Don't go!_

Vivian stopped mid-stride. The voice had been loud, near deafening, but there was no one in the halls. Her ears rang with the silence. Shaking her head and rubbing her eyes, she closed the door and slid the key into the lock.

_No!_

The key ring had fallen to the ground and Vivian was suddenly on her knees, doubled over. She might have passed the voice off as an illusion, but there was no denying that blow that had tried to force her in the door again.

She didn't understand. They'd be safer with the door locked. Only she and Vincent had keys so if there were any intruders they couldn't enter. Wasn't that a good thing?

It probably was.

Until she heard that shatter of glass.

The window had been broken either in or out. Her guess was that Nadiya hadn't been bent on escape so that left only one option.

"Nadiya?" she called, worried now. There were footsteps on the floor, she could hear them. They were too heavy to be Nadiya's tiny feet.

_"Nadiya!_" Vivian cried, ramming her fists against the door. "Nadiya, open the door!"

But she didn't come. The worst thing was, if there was trouble, she couldn't scream.

She fumbled with the keys, finding her hands shaking too much to perform even that task. She dropped the keys twice. Even when she did manage to slide the right one into the lock, the door did not open.

It had been bolted from the inside.

Then came a sound she had not heard much, but couldn't mistake. Whoever was inside drew on her lapse in breath, her pause in her cries to begin. Whoever was in there was either very sloppy or wanted her to hear the distinctive noise.

Slowly, a blade was scraping against its sheathe as it was drawn.

"Vincent!" Vivian screamed with all her strength. "Vincent! Someone's got the children!" She rammed her fists, her shoulder against the door, but the metal only wounded her without being marked by her futile blows.

_**"Vincent!"**_

* * *

He two floors down, and he could hear her. Sound carried far in these tiled halls.

The first time, it had been muddled. He could make out only his name. He raised his head and checked side to side, but could not find Vivian. It was on the second time that he had been able to hear the two words that made his blood run cold.

_"The children!"_

Vincent broke out in a dead sprint. There were Shinra personal in his way, but he couldn't afford to stop. Those who did not move on their own accord were swept aside. The halls flew by in a blur of white and silver, the stairs in gray.

Vivian was on her knees, fists on the door, leaned against it, head bent as she sobbed, still hammering futilely against the door with hands that were bruised a deep purple. "No…no…_no!_"

Vincent gripped her by her shoulders, noticing how she winced, and yanked her to her feet. Holding her against his side, he drew Cerberus with his free hand and fired twice at where he judged the bolt to be. Six holes punctured clear through the door. Releasing Vivian, he kicked in the door, which slammed against the wall.

Inside, just as Vivian had feared, a dark shadow had a knife at Nadiya's throat. Aidan was tied at the foot of her bed, gagged, but still fighting against his bonds with everything he had.

* * *

Kanu was very annoyed with both the children and this setback.

He had gone for the boy first. He was the one with the voice, and he wanted this to be kept quiet. His sister, though, gave him just as much, if not more, grief than the boy would have. She had bitten and scratched and rammed her small fists into him. It was pathetic, and he would have laughed if she didn't have an iron will. He had had to ram her body against the wall five times before she was broken enough to be bound.

And now there was a man with a gun pointed at him. This brought up two options that he did not enjoy. One, he could complete the job, at least taking one of the little brats with him before he was killed. He didn't like that. Dead men could collect no rewards. On the other hand, he escaped with his life but without fulfilling the mission, and he knew better than to expect a second chance at them. He wouldn't get the reward.

How very irritating.

"Put her down," the caped man said slowly, deliberately, cocking his gun and adjusting his aim for the last time.

"Stalemate," Kanu shot back. "You shoot, my hand slips. The girl dies."

The man's frown deepened. He knew Kanu was right. "What is it you want?" he tried again.

"Ha," Kanu scoffed harshly. "Their lives, obviously. But just the two of them, I can spare you and your little girlfriend."

"Why?"

Kanu shrugged and grinned widely, happy to foil this man's attempt at diplomacy. "Beats me. Nothing personal, you understand. It's just my job."

The man's crimson eyes flashed and Kanu winced. An assassin was fearless, but this guy was still pretty creepy.

"Who sent you?!" He was harsher, more demanding.

Kanu pulled the knife closer to Nadiya so that the end was pressed against her flesh. One more iota of strength and it would cut her. "You aren't in a position to be asking questions, pal. Not if you want the brat back."

"…Will you bargain, then?"

Kanu nearly laughed at his ignorance. He didn't want this man's money, he wanted his master's gold! Gold was universal tender, while gil lost its value outside the continent. "I'm not in the mood."

* * *

It didn't matter what Vincent said anymore, as long as he kept talking, kept averting this assassin's attention away from the foot of the bed.

As long as he could keep him from seeing that Aidan had broken free…

The boy was smart, and seemed to have his father's instincts. He crept with grace and in utter silence, making his way to the box in the corner…

"Be strong, little one," Vincent said one last time as he lowered his gun, still not moving his eyes from the man's face.

The assassin smirked. "Yeah. Try not to put on a show, brat. Vampire here wouldn't like that. At least you can't scream…"

He never saw that Vincent's words had a dual meaning. Nadiya was trembling, and needed the assurance, but for Aidan, it meant a world of difference.

_Hold nothing back_.

The short katana, Aidan's birthday present, came into view. It was a deep, rich ruby, and six inches were visible through the assassin's chest.

Vincent flew forward and swept the hand with the knife aside so as he fell, Nadiya was not harmed. He ripped the lifeless body from the boy's blade, heaved it from where he had fallen over Nadiya, and tossed it with contempt to the side.

Vivian rushed to Nadiya, sweeping the girl into her arms and embracing her tightly as the both of them cried, releasing the shock now that the danger was over. Vivian whispered assurances that she had needed to hear more than Nadiya had.

Aidan's katana was still in his hand. He stood frozen, not moving except to draw in deep, heavy breaths. His eyes were wide in terror, glued to the red on his silver sword.

He was now feeling the effects of his first kill, the gravity of taking a life. The rush of rage and adrenaline was gone, leaving him empty and confused. It had all been so quick, and he dealt with heavy denial and shock.

He was only nine. He was too young to be feeling such things.

"Aidan," Vincent said. "There was nothing else you could do."

He nodded numbly. Nadiya broke free of Vivian and wrapped not only her arms, but her wings around her brother. There was a long silence of unspoken words between the two, one that Vivian and Vincent didn't dare to break.

Vincent took the katana from the boy and cleaned it himself. He didn't think Aidan was emotionally ready for that yet.

"Can Nadiya and I sleep together tonight?" Aidan asked at last.

Vivian nodded and spoke breathlessly. "Of course! Of course you can. Let's get you out of this room, too."

"And…can you and Vincent stay with us too?"

Vincent raised his head, surprised. He looked at Vivian, depending on her to answer for him. "Yes, Aidan. We'll stay."

"All night? Even after we're asleep?"

"I promise," Vivian assured him.

* * *

A/N: Whoo...I finished this chapter at 2 a.m. I hope to have two more up today because chapter 42 is already written. How's that for out of order?


	41. Evasive Maneuvering

Everglow - Chapter Forty-One

_File 0067159_

_Subject: Lyn; Age 5_

_Ailment: unclassified_

_Symptoms: Infection seemed to have originated from her right ankle. Up to the knee is a murky brown color. Veins and arteries clearly visible. Heavy bruising, area is very tender. High fever, heavy drugs needed and life support on call constantly. Negative reaction to initial antibiotic and antiviral._

_Tissue of the infected area has been taken and cultured for experimentation._

_Test Sample 001: Failure – no effect_

_Test Sample 002: Failure – infection was stimulated tenfold_

_._

_._

_._

_._

_Test Sample 1135: Product seemed to slow growth of infection in 49 out of the 50 samples. Test #1135-50 was not affected._

_--_

_05:12-permission requested to run tests on the human subject using solution 1135_

_05:30-permission granted, procedure to be scheduled within the hour_

_06:50-subject under the monitor, we await results…_

* * *

"I have made arrangements for the four of you to be relocated. It is clear that it is no longer safe for the twins to remain at Shinra."

Vivian sighed deeply, adjusting Nadiya on her lap. The four of them had been expecting something like this. "Where will we go?"

Rufus laid two cardkeys on the table. Vincent took one, Vivian the other. "The four of you will be split up. At three this afternoon, Aidan will take a train. At four-fifteen, Vincent will follow by car. At five Vivian will leave by airplane and half-hour later, Nadiya will be taken in the railway system. All of your paths will go far out of the way to throw any followers. For twenty-four hours, the four of you will wander in your respective vehicles, and then reunite at a place that your escorts will arrange by radio. The home itself is here in Midgar, but currently it is being installed with security. By the time you arrive, you will have the safest hideout possible."

"Split up?" Vincent asked. Nadiya and Aidan drew closer together, not liking the idea.

"Each child and Vivian will be escorted by a small group of under-cover Turks. They are good at this type of thing. To any onlookers, it will seem like parents and their child out for a vacation to Costa de Sol. Vincent, I won't make you accept an escort, and I know you can take care of yourself, but the offer is there if you should need it."

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "I will need to approve of their escorts, you understand. I don't want any slackers."

"Fair enough," Rufus conceded, putting another three files on the desk. "I will arrange for you to meet them in person, if you'd like, but here are their profiles."

Vincent flipped through the files. "You are sending Elena with Nadiya and Tseng with Aidan? I doubt the wisdom in that."

Rufus nodded. "Tseng was wounded by Sephiroth and Elena took that pretty hard, but you saved them from Kadaj. They agree that they owe you this much. They will put the children's lives before their own. You can speak with them if you are unsure of their commitment."

"I will."

"While Vincent puts the last touches on security, why don't you gather your things? We'll bring disguises by before long, and we'll need to take the children to the department downstairs. We will be dying their hair with a semi-permanent dye. It will wash out in around seventy-two hours; I will let them choose their colors. Tickets are in the files, and you have your times. Be here two hours prior to departure."

* * *

Nadiya just didn't look like Nadiya once her hair was dyed. She had chosen a very youthful strawberry-blonde that made her look very cute, but just not like she used to. She seemed to sense the difference too.

"Your hair was definitely meant to be silver," Vivian assured her. "But brighten up! It will wash out."

Aidan's was black and spiked, the look a very radical change from his loose silver hair. It went as an unspoken consensus that it would be a happy day when the dye washed out and they could return to normal.

Tseng entered, dressed more casually than his normal crisp uniform, but still managed to look professional in jeans and a t-shirt. Vincent knew that, somewhere in those pockets, there was a loaded gun and lots of extra ammunition.

"Are you ready?" the Turk asked.

Aidan nodded once, but turned and hugged his sister for a long time. "Elena will keep her safe, right?"

Tseng nodded. "You will see her again. Now we need to get going."

Aidan briefly hugged Vivian and received a pat on the back from Vincent. "I guess I'll see you at our new home then."

Aidan left, but as Tseng turned to follow, Vincent gripped the Turk's shoulder. "You keep him safe or I will make you regret that I rescued you from Kadaj."

Tseng nodded. "Duly noted. Take care of yourself."

* * *

A/N: Okay, action is postponed until chapter 43. I need to talk about the house before I do anything drastic.


	42. Moving In

Everglow - Chapter Forty-Two

Vivian was really surprised to find what looked to be an ordinary home, one that might have housed a perfectly normal family. On the streets, there were people going about their business, some walking dogs, a laughing couple resting on a bench, a middle-aged woman and her granddaughter tending to their flower-bed. Vivian wondered exactly how many of these people were Turks.

She knew there had to be some, but she couldn't pick out the civilians from the Turks. They really were very good at their jobs.

"We seem to be the first ones here, miss," her driver said. The young man never had given her a name, and had been, for the most part, silent and intensely focused the entire time. She knew she was safe with him, there was nothing that escaped his eyes that darted side to side, but she would have enjoyed some pleasurable company. He checked the radio, speaking in hushed tones. "Tseng and Elena are not fifteen minutes behind us, and Vincent is bringing up the rear."

"Thank you," Vivian said kindly.

"I believe it's safe for you to enter."

Vivian exited the car, pulling her coat close to her against the chill of the outdoors. She made her way to the trunk and began to unload the heavier of her two suitcases, leaving only a small hand-purse for the Turk to handle. He made as if to protest, but she turned her back to him adamantly and lugged the bag along.

The only sign she had seen of security so far was the lock. She got the card key from her pocket and swiped it against the sensor. Several clicks indicated that many locks on many levels were being released.

"Is all this necessary?" Vivian asked.

"Let's hope not," the Turk answered. "You won't even notice this, I promise. Inside feels just like home."

Vivian pushed on the door and entered the heated home. The front room was large, with stairs leading both up and down from opposite sides of the room. A doorway led to a large kitchen, and beyond that, a dining room. A real fire blazed in the stone fireplace in the corner.

"The children's rooms are upstairs, they each have their own, but they share a bathroom. Vincent requested that you take the master bedroom, which is just next to the children's. He will not be staying in this home, per se, but he assured me he will never be far."

"He's always been a lone wanderer," Vivian sighed. "I guess it's just best to let him go where he wills."

"It probably means more to him than he'll ever say for him simply to have a place to belong, someone to _care_," the Turk offered. Vivian looked at him, and he cleared his throat and lowered his head. "Sorry, miss. It's not my place to say."

A car horn was beeping just outside. When Vivian poked her head out to look, she saw Aidan leaning over Tseng's body, head out the window, hand beeping the horn as he hollered with joy at the birds that fled. Poor Tseng was left with the task of both driving and trying to keep the energetic boy in the car.

Vivian rushed out and grabbed Aidan under his shoulders, hefting him out through the window. "I'm so sorry, Tseng! He is a wild one." She turned to gently scold Aidan. "Did you give him any grief?"

Tseng stepped out of the car, brushing the crumbs of chips off his pants. She guessed that that was also Aidan's fault. "He was just excited to be so close, that's all. No harm done, I suppose."

Another car pulled up and Elena helped Nadiya out of the car. Nadiya held the Turk's hand and had a slight bounce to her step. "Nothing of note to report," Elena said to Tseng. "Our trip went without incident."

"When Vincent arrives, we'll report back."

"No need to wait," Vivian said. "Let's unpack and get you children settled. We'll make a big dinner that will be hot and ready when he gets here."

Aidan brightened at the prospect of food and grabbed some of Nadiya's bags from the trunk of the car. "Come on, sis!"

_"Where's Vincent?"_ Nadiya signed. Her room was now entirely set up. It was barer than her room at Shinra, but neither of them had minded. They brought only what was most precious to them. The paint and lamps and décor could wait until later.

"I wouldn't worry about him, Nadiya," Vivian assured her. "He's a bit of a free spirit. He has to roam. He hasn't forgotten you; he probably just…found something of interest. He'll be back."

"_I made him a present!"_ Nadiya continued. _"So maybe he'll stop looking so sad!"_

"I'm sure he'll love it, Nadiya."

"_I made one for Daddy and Mommy too, but I have to wait to give it to them."_

"Maybe not as long as you think." Vivian smiled and tapped her small nose. "Why don't you scrub some of that dye out of your hair while I make dinner?"

"_Can I wear my pretty dress?"_

"Sure, we'll have a celebration! Once you get out of the bath, you and I can make a cake."

* * *

It was now well past midnight, and Vivian had thought that the twins had been in bed, but there was more than one pair of tiny little footsteps and excited boyish whispers descending down the stairs. Sighing, Vivian rose and threw a robe over her pajamas, slipping her feet into warm slippers before she sleepily dragged herself down the hall.

She stopped at the top of the stairs when she saw a light in the kitchen go on. "Vincent!" she heard Aidan whisper excitedly. Vivian smiled. So it was the door that had awakened the pair.

"Look, Vincent! Vivian made pasta! And Nadiya made you a cake! She even kept it in the oven so it would be nice and warm for you!" Aidan was having a hard time keeping his voice at a whisper, he was so happy. There were little thuds on the tile; Vivian guessed that Nadiya was jumping up and down happily.

"…Thank you both, but I really don't need to eat." The voice wasn't a whisper, but was kept low in reverence for the time of night it was.

The bouncing stopped.

"But Vincent, Nadiya made the cake special…just for you! She did the icing up really, really nice. It took her a whole hour!"

There was a pause, but Vincent conceded. "I guess I might as well sample this marvelous creation of yours, Nadiya. Thank you. Thank you both."

She heard them scamper around for dishes and pull a chair out for Vincent.

"And Nadiya has a present for you, too."

"…Nadiya…" Vincent sighed, seeming to radiate fatigue that went far deeper than his body. "You shouldn't have."

But she had. By the soft crumple of paper, she knew that Vincent had received his gift.

She didn't have to see what was happening to know. Nadiya had excitedly shown her the gift she made especially for Vincent. On a plain white sheet of paper, she had drawn in crayon a stick-figure of Vincent, his stick arms, body, and legs black, with a wide red triangle from his shoulders for his cape. His claw and his shoes were filled with a gold glitter she had found in her art kit. On his face, under a mess of long, scraggly black hair, were two wide, crimson eyes and a huge smile that stretched from temple to temple. Holding his claw was Nadiya, a much smaller figure in a purple dress, an unnaturally wide smile identical to Vincent's on her face. In the picture, she had given herself gray braids, as she hadn't had a silver crayon, but white glitter made her hair gleam proudly in the light.

Between the two, above their joined hands, was a huge, red heart beaming with yellow rays.

There was no sound downstairs for a long, long time. Vivian knew that at some point, Nadiya had signed to him. She had told her what she was going to say.

"_I don't want you to be sad. It makes __**me **__sad. So when you are sad, you can remember me…and be happy!"_

When he did, at last, speak, his voice was different. Choked, somehow, more timid. Shocked, or struck. "Nadiya I…"

Another long, heavy pause. Vivian screamed at him inside. She wanted to yell at him to say he was grateful, that he would cherish it forever, and that he loved her, too.

He said nothing to that effect.

"Shouldn't you two be in bed? It is late."

_Vincent_, Vivian thought despairingly. _You probably have just crushed her little heart…_

She stepped back into her room as the twins walked side by side to their rooms. Aidan's hand was on Nadiya's shoulder, and she got that feeling that they were conversing in their own silent language that only the two of them could understand.

_Vincent, curse your eyes! Why are you so blind!_?

The light downstairs went out almost immediately, but she didn't hear him leave for another solid hour.

* * *

A/N: More Vincent-thick-skull-ness. Honestly, the guy's hard to convert.

Next chapter, to be posted in five, ten minutes max, is a bad cliffhanger. You have been warned.


	43. Dual Attack

_A/N#1: This chapter was written entirely by Tehn. I take no credit._

Everglow - Chapter Forty-Three

Vincent walked out of the store, carrying two large, heavy paper bags. The groceries were to be the supplies for the children's meals for the next week. Already Vincent's Turk training was kicking in, and he was rationing out the food. He was absentmindedly walking down the alleyway that kept him out of the crowds, giving him a shortcut back to the home.

In quick succession, Vincent's hair was pulled back, jerking his neck with it. His first reaction was to drop the groceries, reach for Cerberus, but cold metal touched his throat before he could feel for his gun.

"Hello, friend," a voice slithered over the words. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Kadaj," Vincent choked out between gritted teeth.

Kadaj giggled. "All I need is one simple little answer to a teensy-tiny question. If you answer it, we won't have to hurt you!" Kadaj lowered his mouth to next to Vincent's ear, his voice becoming serious.

"Where are the children?"

* * *

Vivian combed Nadiya's long, silky hair before looking at her watch again. "Where could he be?" she mumbled.

She heard a thump against the door. Cautiously, she opened it peeking behind a small slit.

Vincent lay bloodied on the doorstep.

"Oh Gaia," Vivian gasped as she pulled Vincent's body inside. He flinched at each movement. "Vincent, who did this to you?"  
"Verian…Kadaj…" his voice rasped with wet blood dripping from the corners of his mouth.

"Aidan," Vivian called, not looking away from Vincent. "Get Nadiya and-"

"Now, now, now," a slippery voice called from the shadows. "Don't be like that. We just want to play."

"Kadaj," Vivian hissed.

"Vincent was so good, crawling back to his hidey-hole. It really was too bad that he didn't know we were following him; it would be better for him now if we hadn't gotten the idea." He turned to Vincent, his voice playful, but his eyes hard. "You said you didn't know where they were. I would never have expected you of all people to lie to me. That's a very dangerous gamble." He leaned down to whisper in Vincent's ear. "And you just lost."

Vivian bolted from Vincent, grabbing Aidan and Nadiya up. Verian appeared in front of the door.

"Think again," he said, smiling tauntingly. Vivian ran to a corner, crouching and trembling with the children.

"Leave them!" Kadaj barked, and then his mouth slid into its oily smile. "First we must make an example out of this one." He gestured to the wounded man on the floor.

"No! Please! Don't do it!" Vivian said through a broken voice, tears dripping slowly on the floor.

"Well. If you're already crying, then I'm going to hate to see how you'll react to this," Kadaj chuckled. Vivian whimpered, holding Nadiya closer as the little one buried her head into Vivian. Aidan, open-mouthed in complete horror, was frozen in fear.

Verian trod heavily to stand in front of Vincent.

"Get up," he ordered. Vincent staggered to a standing position, clutching his arm. Verian scoffed, prodding Vincent's bleeding leg with the blunt edge of his weapon. Vincent's eyes closed quickly in a silent flinch. Vivian bit her lip as she watched him, Verian and Kadaj circling him so she could only see snatches of his tall, dark figure. Suddenly Kadaj let out a mix of a laugh and scream, and the tense moments of safety were over.

Vincent swerved between the two fluidly, though the usually simple task was now sending first beads, then rivulets of sweat down his face. With each evasion, Kadaj's eerie smile grew wider, chilling Vivian's blood until she could no longer feel any run from her face. They were wearing him down. Verian seemed to be drinking Vincent's energy; with each strike he only grew stronger. In a brief moment of peace between attacks, Verian took his opportunity. He swept his arm around, latching his hand around Vincent's pale, thin throat.

Vivian looked frantically around for Kadaj. Kadaj stepped forward, holding his sword, only now half of both the blades were glowing a bright orange, in the other hand, a glowing and mastered Fire materia. Vincent's scarred skin showed through where Verian had ripped the remains of his shredded clothing to reveal a pale canvas.

"_No_!" Vivian shrieked, gripping tighter to the children to keep her from running to Vincent. She watched in horror as Kadaj slowly inched the almost-melting metal towards Vincent's stomach. Even he could not retain his grotesque, pained scream as the double-katana stroked across him again and again.

Verian deftly hooked chains on Vincent's wrists, placing them on a hook so he could hang immovable. He spun the gun master around, Kadaj keeping his blade in the same place, so he could spread the pain equally. Vivian screamed at the scene before her. She looked down.

Aidan and Nadiya watched with wide, frightened eyes.

Vincent was burned and bloodied when they dropped him. Laughing darkly, Kadaj walked over and crouched in front of Vivian.

"Wanna play?" he grinned. Verian moved towards the children.

"Stay away," Vivian hissed. Kadaj grinned even wider, taking a handful of her hair and pulling her towards him.

"Oh, little children," he sang. "Come with us, and she will be left unharmed."

Nadiya ran towards Verian, making her decision clear.

"No," Vivian said in a choked whisper. Kadaj pulled her back even farther and placed a knife against her throat.

"Do it," he spat at Aidan. Aidan glared, resisting, but went to Verian all the same.

"Take them," Kadaj directed Verian. Victoriously, Verian directed the children out of the building.

"Make sure you give Vincent my greetings when you reach him in the Afterlife," Kadaj snickered. He gripped his knife tighter, fluently stabbing it into Vivian's ribs. She gasped, and then hit the floor as Kadaj dropped her. Laughing, Kadaj left.

"Vivian…" Vincent gasped. Through the red pain, Vivian crawled to him.

There was something white against the black of his clothing. From how it was carefully folded, she could see a glint of gold glitter beneath a splattered coat of red blood...

Vivian's eyes widened. He had kept the picture that Nadiya gave to him. Not only that, but it was folded carefully, tucked in the pocket closest to his heart.

"Call…Sephiroth……" Vincent clasped her hand, sliding his cell phone into her palm. Quickly, she dialed the number.

* * *

Sephiroth's phone rang, the noise too loud for his quiet sanctuary.

"Hello?" he asked. There was only the sound of noisy, wet rasping.

"Please….help…" a feminine voice pleaded, then the phone went dead.

* * *

A/N#2: ...well...don't kill me...

On the bright side, Sephy answered his phone!

Erm...yeah.


	44. The Healer

Everglow - Chapter Forty-Four

Somewhere behind him Vincent heard an alarm that had survived Kadaj and Verian's attack go off, beeping shrilly to warn of another intruder. A powerful thud of heavy boots, a kick, he guessed, and the alarm whined and sparked to a stop, probably broken beyond repair.

Vincent couldn't spare the energy to open his eyes, it was an excruciating struggle to breathe as it was. He couldn't tell who it was, but the footsteps approached slowly, purposefully, majestically.

Then a hand gloved in leather firmly gripped his shoulder and flipped him onto his back. Vincent couldn't suppress a small cry.

"What have you gotten yourself into now, Valentine?"

He didn't dare believe it, but it somehow was. He couldn't mistake that voice.

"You came?" Vincent breathed.

"I owed you a favor or two," Sephiroth said. "After what you did for Aralyn."

His strong hands slipped under his shoulders and began to lift him. "No!" Vincent gasped strongly. Then, more drained, he added, "Get…get her first…"

The hands did not release him, but neither did they lift him further. "Who is this?" he asked.

Vincent didn't answer, but breathed a sigh of relief as Sephiroth eased him gently to the ground. Vivian let out a soft moan; he guessed that he had rolled her over as well to better assess the damage. Sephiroth made no sound to indicate the gravity of what he saw, and worry constricted Vincent's chest.

"She needs an ambulance. This is beyond my ability."

Vincent tried to shake his head. "We are…not safe there…that's the whole…reason we came…here…"

Vincent could feel Sephiroth's frown. "I don't think I can safely move her," Sephiroth said at last. "It's a lose-lose situation."

"Whatever…it takes…do it here. I…trust you."

A long, soft sigh. "Do you have a small knife, Vincent?"

That sparked the energy to open his eyes in shock. Through blurred vision, he could see Sephiroth bent over Vivian, his hands pressing on the wound in her side. He raised himself to his elbows somehow. "No…I won't let you do that to her…"

"It's to cut bandages, Valentine," Sephiroth reprimanded softly. "Be reasonable. I was not going to touch her with it." His voice lowered a little bit. "But, if you have a needle and thread, I could stitch the wound closed. I can numb it to the best of my ability, but I won't lie to you and say that it won't pain her. I think her chances are greater that way. It is your choice. I won't do it without your consent."

Vincent fell back onto the ground, wincing as he jolted the pain anew. "There is a knife…in the kitchen. Needle and thread…upstairs…in Na—in the girl's room."

Sephiroth nodded his approval and left to get the items.

He had heard the freezer door open in the kitchen, but he hadn't expected Sephiroth to dump three trays worth of ice on the burns on his stomach. His back arched and he hissed through his gritted teeth, the cold was unexpected, and it stung fiercely.

"That will get the heat out while you wait," Sephiroth said as he returned to Vivian's side with towels cut into strips in one hand and a threaded needle in the other. "Try not to move."

He first laid more ice onto a towel, then added salt to the bundle before tying it closed. Testing the bag with the back of his hand, he nodded and put the cold pack on Vivian's wound. Vincent approved. If Sephiroth could get it cold enough, she wouldn't be able to feel a thing.

He still had to look away as Sephiroth carefully began to stitch.

Vivian was either entirely numb or too far into unconsciousness to know what was being done. She did not move or make the slightest sound. It was unnerving. Vincent forced himself to believe that, if she was dead, Sephiroth would have told him.

"It is done," Sephiroth said at last. He was now applying some type of salve to the wound and then began wrapping her torso firmly in the clean, soft towels. "I think that as long as there wasn't too much damage to her organs, she will live." He tied the loose ends together and slid a hand gently under her head, slipping a pillow that he had taken from Nadiya's bed under her before lying her down again. He draped Nadiya's quilt over her, checked her pulse one last time, and then stood.

Vincent wondered if, as he had entered Nadiya's room, he had seen the blanket Aralyn had made. He tried to remember where Nadiya had placed it. He wondered if Sephiroth could ever guess that they had sheltered _his _children for the past month or so.

Now wasn't the time to tell him, but he knew that it wasn't far off.

By now all the ice on Vincent's stomach was water, some of it seeming to have evaporated. Sephiroth shook his head as he applied yet another round of ice. This time, Vincent had ample warning, so it wasn't as hard to bear. "These are bad burns," Sephiroth said. His hands hovered a whisper above the wounds, tracing them pensively. "And I recognize the weapon that did this to you. You have a lot of explaining to do."

_You don't know the half of it,_ Vincent thought.

"You will need a lot of time to heal from this, you understand. Consider yourself out of commission."

"I heal quickly," Vincent rebuked, half to Sephiroth, half to himself. He didn't have _time_ to sit around and heal! The children could be back in Hojo's custody by then! With all the time that had passed, who was to say they weren't already?

Sephiroth scoffed, dumping another tray of ice on even though the current batch was only half melted. Vincent couldn't feel a thing anymore; he couldn't even decipher the point in time when the cubes struck his severed flesh. It was a bit uncomfortable, he felt like his middle didn't exist anymore, but he wasn't about to complain.

Sephiroth didn't reapply ice. "I'm giving you a break. It would be ironic for you to be burned so badly and then die of hypothermia." He smiled without humor, putting a towel to the side of Vincent, and then rolling him over onto his stomach so he laid on it. Besides that, he took no heed of the soaked carpet.

There was a long, hesitant pause as Sephiroth observed his back. "What is it?" Vincent asked, sensing that something was amiss.

"Your clothing. Your stomach was bare but on your back…"

He knew where this was going long before Sephiroth said anything. His eyes widened.

"It is fused to your skin."

Vincent let himself go limp, stifling a groan. This was going to hurt.

A lot.

* * *

A/N: News. My summer is over, starting Monday.

Okay, my summer's not actually over, but band camp (YAY!) is going to eat ALL my time from nine to five. Updates are going to be slowing, but I will type when I can. I haven't given up, I'm just swamped until band season is over. Sorry guys, I'm going to miss it too, but I'm marching my way to the championships!! Wish me luck!

I'll try to get in a few more chapters before Monday. I'm not going to get any sleep tonight anyway. My sister is having el-humongo sleepover. Which is fun. Until the caffiene comes out.


	45. Hope and Despair

Everglow - Chapter Forty-Five

Just as he had managed the strength to wriggle so that he was sitting upright, an unexpected jerk of the car threw Aidan's whole body forward, his form folding over a toolbox. The corner hit just the right spot of his chest to drive the air from his lungs. Flailing against his bonds like a fish out of water, he fought to get it back. When he had gasped it in, he was in the same position he had started in; on his side, bound with his hands behind his back, ankles secured, and totally, ultimately helpless.

They were in the back of a pick-up truck, a top secured on with bolts, maybe even welded to the car. Aidan knew this all too well. He had rammed whatever he could gain control of (most often his shoulder or feet if he laid just the right way) against every inch of the perimeter, looking for a weakness. There was none. They were confined in this small cell.

Though the top was shallow, it did afford them a foot or two, just enough for them to sit erect if they could orient themselves that much. Aidan had managed to nudge Nadiya up with his shoulder, but it had done no good. Sitting up had only shown them the long, unknown road they were traveling on. It had only been the definite proof that they were being whisked away as captives.

Still, he didn't want Kadaj and Verian to see him on his side when they came to get him. If he was going to be a captive, he was going to hold himself as high as he could. And so he struggled on.

Nadiya was sniffling in the corner, terrified out of her wits. It was the only, lonely sound above the hum of the engine and the roll of tires on some road that was unknown to them. She seemed not to notice that she was laying on a hard, uncomfortably or even painfully textured metal surface that was highly unstable. Sometimes she gasped when her head was smacked against the ground after the savage bumps that were becoming more frequent. Most times, she was silent. Aidan hoped that she was dreaming of a happier, brighter place.

Her wings were a mess of rope. It had taken Verian and Kadaj all of two seconds to see that, even with her hands and ankles bound, she could still fly away. But to bind them proved to be more complicated. To their credit, every curve of her perfect wings was encircled with rope that looped around her small chest, leashing her wings to her and making it difficult to stretch her wings more than a foot from her body; it would be impossible to fly. It still was random and unorganized, looking like a thick, brown spider web with knots.

At least Nadiya hadn't been gagged with an old, scratchy washrag.

However rough the ride was, they wished it would continue on when the car slowed, pulled to the side of the road, and stopped. Two car doors slammed shut and their captors' voices could clearly be heard.

"…And we'll stop at nightfall. There's an inn. We'll rent two rooms there. The brats can sleep in the car."

There was a rattle of keys and then the sound of their lock being tampered with. "What if they make a racket?" Verian asked as he worked to open the door. "The last thing we need right now is attention." With a little click, the door slid down, banging against the hinges with a metallic grind that made Nadiya cringe.

Kadaj smirked and turned to the children. "Oh, they won't fuss. They know how much I'd _hate_ to clip sweet little Nadiya's precious wings…"

Aidan said all he needed to say despite the gag; it was all in the lethal glare he shot at their captors. His hands behind him were fists, his nails biting into his palm.

"Now," Kadaj continued, pressing his face inches from Aidan's and challenging his stare, "I am going to take your gag out so you can eat. I know how vocal you are, but I promise you I am not short on training, and for what I don't know, I have my imagination to plan things for your sister. You will keep quiet, or she will pay. Do you understand?"

Kadaj enjoyed watching the rage burn out of control in his eyes as he removed the wet wad from his mouth. He could see how he wanted so badly to fight, to hurt him, but with a firm resolve, he sealed his lips, for the sake of his sister.

"Good boy." Verian tossed in a plastic bag. "Enjoy the feast. It's the best you'll be getting for a long, _long_ time." Verian turned back to Kadaj as he leaned casually against the side of the car, his long fingers tapping on the lowered door. "Should I free their hands?"

Kadaj shrugged. "_I'm_ not feeding them. Aidan probably bites. You want to? Go ahead and cut all the ropes. We're traveling through a barren wasteland to the middle of nowhere, where would they go even if they did manage to get out?"

So they were given one, small freedom to cherish in their cell before the door was slammed on them again. The car rumbled to life, and the twins sat in silence. Only a while later did they open the bag to find their feast of bruised apples, one sandwich with some kind of meat that felt more like plastic, a quarter of a graham cracker and half a canteen of lukewarm, stale water.

Neither wanted to eat. Trivial matters like food hadn't bothered them since they'd been captured. But Aidan made sure Nadiya ate every crumb of her half. He'd heard her stomach rumble, and while it didn't bother her, it was worrisome to him.

"You gotta eat, sis," he coaxed. "I don't want to see you sick again."

Nadiya shook her head. _"Nadiya is sick. In…in her heart. So scared of going back, of Hojo."_

"No, sis," Aidan insisted, stuffing more graham cracker in her mouth, letting her have his entire share. "We're not going back. I won't let them take you. I'll never, ever let him touch you again. _Ever! _Vincent will save us, you'll see!"

Nadiya burst out crying. _"But what if Vincent's dead? What if Kadaj killed him?"_

"He's…he's not," Aidan insisted, but it was weaker, less confident and more fearful. "He's not because…because he _can't_ be!" A glance at his wrist and his eyes brightened. He held it up in front of Nadiya's eyes. "See! We still have these watches! They'll be able to find us in no time!"

Nadiya wiped her eyes on her sleeve, but sniffled a little still. _"I wish I could be sure."_

"You'll see," Aidan insisted. "You'll see…they'll come for us. They'd never leave us here."

_"As long as they live,"_ Nadiya half agreed.

* * *

_File 0067159_

_Subject: Lyn; Age 5_

_Ailment: unclassified_

_Symptoms: Her body is deteriorating itself. She is literally decaying from the inside out. _

_Status: Solution 1135 did seem to slow the infection, but did not halt it, and rebounded worse than before. Her right leg is entirely lost. Amputation from the knee seems the only solution. An artificial leg is being made as we speak. Surgery is scheduled for 06:00 this morning… _

* * *

A/N: I am so, so sorry for the delay. I have been marching like the good little flutist I am. My feet, back, arms, shoulders, and head hurt, but the jaguars will go on! ;)

I have one piece of gigantic, enormous news for everyone. So I was marching, right? And something about being that active gets the little rusty wheels in my head a rolling. I'm standing on the northern 45 yard line, 12 steps from the back hash (details are important, right?) getting yelled at for my awful "right" flank. (I kind of turned left... ) And I'm thinking, "Self, what would happen to Sephiroth, Aralyn, Nadiya and Aidan if...?"

Thus, the plot for the sequel to Everglow, the three-quil in the series, the third book in the epic trilogy (okay not really but still) was born.

I call it The Marked. What say you? Anyone up for continuing this? Don't get me wrong, there's still a ways to go in Everglow, but if there's room to expand beyond that, I'm ready. I am also considering a prequil to Broken Wings, about Aralyn and Sephiroth's childhood and adolescent years together. I'm taking requests for that also.

Can you believe that when I first got the idea for Broken Wings I swore to myself that it would never top ten pages?


	46. Long Lost Children

Everglow - Chapter Forty-Six

_He dreamed he was in a field. It was noon, and the sun was high in the sky. It was a clear, cool day._

_He was lying on his back in a bed of wildflowers._

_The long grasses rustled, signaling an intruder. He pushed himself up with his hands._

_In the distance, two small silver-haired figures were playing beneath an old oak tree. One wandered slowly and leisurely through the grasses, picking the wildflowers and occasionally pausing to sit and make a chain of the ones she had collected. The other moved too, but a quicker, more spontaneous pace. Once he tried to climb the ancient tree, making it to the top and waving to the girl in the flowers, but he skinned his knee on the way down. It did not hinder him. He spotted a small animal skittering in the grass and perked up immediately, ready for a good chase._

_"Daddy!" the boy called, waving his arm in a gesture of summoning. "Come on! Come help me catch this rabbit!"_

* * *

Sephiroth awoke with an aching heart. The laughter still echoed in his mind, the image of the two beautiful children beneath the sun behind his eyes.

With his liberation from Jenova, the memories of his children were becoming more frequent. Their first twenty hours had been spent together and then…

He blamed himself. He shouldn't have let them go back to the nursery. Maybe if he had been able to hold them, Aralyn and he could have given them the strength to survive as the sickness had taken hold of them.

Dr. Calvin had assured him that the death was instantaneous. They had not suffered. Perhaps it was better than to suffer a life of being the children of a monster. His hands clenched. Yes, they were spared a great pain.

But those few hours that he had been a father were still held close to his heart, one of the most sacred memories of his life, right beside Aralyn and his wedding day.

A small, pained cry made him rise from the couch where he had laid to rest. It was the woman, he decided. She was probably awake.

He had laid her in the girl's room, so it was there that he quickly ran to. As promised, her eyes were wide open, her breathing heavy in pain, her hands clapped over her side where red was seeping through the heavy bandages. She had torn open the wound again.

He pressed her shoulders into the bed, tearing her hands from the wound so he could assess the damage. He could feel her confused gaze as he worked to unravel the now useless bandages. She hadn't known he was here; she had been unconscious. She probably had a lot running through her head, seeing how he was an ex-mass murderer and all.

"Sephiroth?" she asked. "You…really came."

His hands worked deftly, his eyes never straying from the work that had to be done.

"I'm Vivian," she said. "It's a pleasure to meet you, at long last."

Sephiroth thought that an odd thing to say. There was no fear in her voice, no repulsion that it was his hands that peeled the fabric from her skin. Didn't she know who he was?

She wasted no time in asking the next question. "Vincent? Is he…alive?"

"He lives," Sephiroth assured her.

"Is he…" she paused hesitantly, "suffering?"

Sephiroth sighed softly but gave no response. She had seen the wounds, he had no need to reiterate what was happening to his body as he slowly healed. She had been seeking some comfort, but he couldn't give her any. Not without blatantly lying.

"The burns are bad, and the cuts are deep. His leather clothes were melted to his back. I had to…cut them off. But he will heal," Sephiroth said solemnly as he began wrapping her side anew. A small smile crept across his features. "I didn't know he married. And two kids? You certainly wasted no time."

Vivian flushed maroon. "No! We're not…and they're not our kids. We were…caring…for them…while their parents are away."

"I see. Where are they, then?"

Her mouth opened, but she kept closing it again, unsure of what to say. When she did make a sound, it was stammered, and quickly cut off.

"Sephiroth they're…well you remember…no, no, that's not right …they're…they're…" She sighed deeply. "Perhaps…I think Vincent…he will tell you. I'm…tired. I want to sleep now."

He looked up at her, meeting her green eyes for the first time.

"So…you can go now," she murmured. "Nice meeting you."

He raised one eyebrow and looked at her for a while longer, but rose to his feet and walked to the door. "I will hear if you call out."

"…Thank you."

* * *

Vivian fished under her pillow with one hand. Yes! It was there! From under her head she slid another piece of paper.

It was Nadiya's drawing of herself holding her father's hand. Like on Vincent's picture, hearts were above their grasped hands.

How was she going to tell him that his children were alive?

* * *

A/N: So here's a present to get you through the week. Band camp is intensifying and for two days we're staying for twelve full hours. So, little chance at writing. Sorry. It's more frustrating for me, I promise. This has become one of the greatest pleasures in my life, thanks to you all. I can't thank you enough. 291 pages is a lot to write without moral support. Yes, that is the page count, with "Broken Wings" being 180 and "Everglow" following at 111. ;)


	47. If I'm Not Back By Then

Everglow - Chapter Forty-Seven

A listless sleep had followed Vivian's restless thinking. She awakened in a cold sweat, the blankets matted about her, clinging to her as much as she clung to them, but was unable to remember the dream.

Only that it had been five minutes since she had been similarly woken.

She closed her eyes and breathed as deeply and as slowly as she could, but sleep would not come. Too many colors and violent images flashed behind her eyes before dissipating as she opened them. There was always the panic, the rush of adrenaline, once her foot had even been extended forward as she lay on her back, as if her body had been preparing to run.

She would get no rest tonight. The images were too frightening, and the intervals all too frequent. Accepting the fact grudgingly, she wobbled her way to her slippers and wrapped herself in a robe as she yawned and rubbed her forehead, trying to ease the ache.

She walked heavily down the stairs, though her slippers muffled the sound. Her eyes were squinted at best, sometimes even closed entirely. They felt like lead. Her body screamed for rest, for peace, but her mind fought otherwise. She rested at the bottom of the stairs, leaning her back against the wall and just breathing, dozing blissfully for only a minute.

A glass of warm milk had been her mother's remedy as a child. Maybe a pinch of sugar and cocoa. To do the job thoroughly, she could down a sleeping pill. Shaking her head until her eyes were half open, she worked her way to the kitchen.

She moved as if on auto-pilot, wavering as she walked, one hand almost constantly at her mouth as she yawned. She found the cabinet, pulled out a large glass, and then shut the door quietly so as not to disturb others. Turning fluidly and groggily, she gripped the handle of the refrigerator and fell back, unable to pull, so leaving gravity to do her work. The milk sloshed out of the cup as she filled it nearly to the brim, droplets from the cup and her sloppy aiming falling to the counter. Satisfied, she made her way to the microwave next.

She saw a shadow out of the corner of her eye, screamed bloody murder, and dropped the cup. The scene from her dream flashed red again, her reality telling her that the figure before her was a match.

The glass shattered on the ground, sending shards of glass everywhere with small, high, bell-like tones. Milk flowed like blood from a wound, seeping slowly across the tile.

Sephiroth looked at her, but said nothing.

"Sephiroth!" Vivian gasped, clutching her throbbing heart in an attempt to slow it. "It's just you!" Then, as an accusation, "You startled me!"

He looked at the mix of sparkling shards and milk on the floor. "Indeed." He glanced at her again. "My apologies." It was sincere enough, but oddly distanced and cold.

Vivian sighed, admitting that now at least she was fully awake, and got a rag from the counter, mopping up the spill. "What are you doing up?" she tried to ask casually. Something normal, she pleaded. Insomnia, maybe. That was logical; nothing sinister about it at all.

But nothing ever was. Not since the children and Vincent had entered her life. The heavy pause told her that this would be no different.

"I have to go away for a while."

Now? When he still had to be convinced that his children were alive and needing his help? Did he have to go _now_?

"Why?" Vivian pressed, letting her disappointment and worry ebb into her voice. "And where?"

Sephiroth turned so that she could not read his expression. "Aralyn. If I am gone too long they will suspect." His head drooped just a little. "She will have already paid dearly for my delay."

Vivian could not rebuke that for so many reasons. This was his wife. His love and his angel, the only one he had to live for right now.

Aralyn was also Nadiya and Aidan's mother. To keep him here would be a gamble that the reunion would be without their mother.

But to let him go was chancing that they would be rescued too late.

Was there no way to save the entire family? Must one member or another be sacrificed?

"I will return in three days' time. You are a nurse, so I trust you can care for Valentine until then. I left aloe and morphine at his bedside. I hope you will use them with prudence and wisdom, the morphine more especially."

"Thank you, Sephiroth," she breathed. "We will wait here…for as long as it takes, but please understand that there is an urgent issue at hand. Save your wife, but please, hurry back. I swear to you, it will be far worth your while."

"I am neither a mercenary nor an assassin," Sephiroth insisted coldly. "Not anymore. Take that into consideration."

"This needs not be either," Vivian said.

"Then I will hear you out. But," he continued, "you will _not_ wait 'as long as it takes'. In three days, if I have not returned, you must take Valentine and run. Somewhere, _anywhere_ away from here. Use any means necessary. Leave everything and go."

"…What?" Vivian asked, surprised. "Why?"

"Because Valentine saved Aralyn. I am returning the favor, but I can promise nothing more. My debt is repaid."

"No, Sephiroth that's not what I meant…!"

"Do not turn back. Do not hesitate. That is all I can say."

"What about you then?" Vivian cried. "What will you do?"

Sephiroth pulled the door open and stepped across the threshold. "It is of no consequence. If the three days are up, and I haven't returned, I will be dead."

"Sephiroth!"

But the door was shut behind him, and when Vivian had wrenched it open, he was gone, a few black feathers drifting down to caress her face.

It might have been beautiful if she hadn't been so mortally horrified.

She remembered the dream then, the one that had plagued her all night long.

Instinctively, she knew that Aidan had seen it too, that day when he had torn apart the mako tank in the throes of the violent hallucination.

No one member in Sephiroth's family was safe now. Not even the strongest, most legendary man ever to exist on Gaia.

_If the three days are up, and I haven't returned, I will be dead._

* * *

A/N: Why am I not at band camp? Who cares! Here's a chapter!


	48. Vincent's Scars

Everglow - Chapter Forty-Eight

Vivian had knocked softy for minutes, but no sound came from within. Praying that Vincent slept deeply and peacefully, she slowly turned the knob and pushed the door in.

A lamp was on at his bedside, illuminating his pale face but leaving the rest of his body to rest in shadow. His face was serene, his lips murmuring words she couldn't hear in his dreams. His breathing was little more than a soft whisper, but was still tinged with pain and irregularity. She hoped fervently that his mind and spirit were elsewhere, far away from the pain of his body.

She stepped slowly on the thick carpet, making no sound, afraid to wake him. She propped a wooden wedge in the side of the door, letting the light from the hallway in.

The light gave his pale skin an unearthly glow, his body glistening with the sweat brought by his severe fever. His dark hair was splayed across the pillow, making his face seem all the more pale and sallow. It was discomforting to see him gone so limp, perhaps in rest, but more likely, he lacked the strength to sustain himself.

It hurt to see him so hurt, so frail and weak.

She wasn't ten steps away before she could see that his chest was bare. To the side, his shirt and cloak had been thrown in a disorderly heap, bloodied and burned beyond hope of repair.

She flushed crimson and quickly averted her eyes. She should have known; it was the only way to treat him, but it still embarrassed her.

Not that he was bad looking… but she refused to think about that. He wouldn't appreciate that. He had made his feelings for her clear enough.

"Oh…oh…oh…" she mouthed as she forced herself closer. "Sorry, so sorry…"

She was a nurse. Her job required this type of thing, she scolded herself. It wasn't like men didn't show their chests, but with all the care he had taken to always veil as much of his body as possible, it felt like an intrusion, a trespass.

Suddenly rushing, she set her things on the table with the lamp, busying herself with readying her supplies, anything to keep her eyes off him for just a little longer.

But when she could delay it no longer, her gaze turned first to his shoulder, which was within the warm circle of light that the lamp cast.

She would have screamed if she hadn't been so terrified of waking him.

It was a small wonder that he always hid his body. His shoulder alone was etched with so many scars, she could barely see smooth skin, just the pale, raised lines that crisscrossed ungracefully. The faintest, palest shades of purple and red stood out sharply against his milky skin, testifying of past agony, horrors that plagued him still.

Breathing heavily through her lips in muted gasps, she extended one single, small, thin hand, trembling and quivering as she reached forward. Her hand came to rest just a few fingers' width above his shoulder.

She couldn't stop her hand from traveling down, sinking as it did, until at long last, her fingers grazed the burning skin just above his heart with the lightest and gentlest touch.

His eyes, the two haunted orbs of fire and blood, shot open so quickly that Vivian was frozen in place.

He looked at her for a long time, his gaze strong and clear despite the pain he must have been in, not moving a muscle, not even, it seemed, to blink. To her embarrassment, her palm was still pressed lightly to his heart. But she couldn't move while he looked at her like that, she could only respond with a pained and ashamed look of her own. She stayed still, her body bowed over his. His head was at a slight angle so he could look deeply into her eyes.

"What are you doing here, Vivian?" His voice was pure and dark, untainted. She could almost laugh – his voice hadn't changed a bit.

"I-I need to c-change your b-bandages," she stammered, whispering so that anyone a foot might have only heard soft sighs.

His chest rose and fell deeply as he breathed in and out very slowly. He turned his eyes to the ceiling, no longer looking at her. "Then do it," he conceded coldly.

Her fingers reached for the knot in the cloth strips just beneath his shoulder. Once it was untied, she let the strands sit there as she drew her hands away, terrified to unravel this last covering on his body. Biting her lip, she took one end and pulled slowly, wincing as the skin that had stuck to the bandages ripped away from the cloth.

Vincent made no sound, though his back arched just the slightest degree and his breathing was disrupted only further. Shushing him softly, she pressed ever so lightly on his chest. He responded to her touch by falling back against the bed, letting out a tense breath in a sigh of relief and closing his eyes.

Beneath her fingertips, she could feel the soft fluttering of his heartbeat, a reassuring though irregular pulse. Through this, she found that there were some things that even Vincent couldn't hide.

His heart began racing, the beats increasing their tempo dramatically. How was it that he could keep his breathing so even then?

Was he in pain?

Finally freeing her hands, she drew one of the few syringes Sephiroth had left. "Vincent," she said hurriedly. "Sephiroth got morphine."

"…No." He opened his eyes and continued to stare at the ceiling, his eyes seeming heavier.

She waited a moment to see if the offer would tempt him into acceptance, but he remained adamant. She put one hand back on his heart and another on his forehead. Both areas were warm, even hot to the touch. His skin might have glowed with the heat. His heart pumped as fast as before.

The only explanation was the one that was the most absurd.

His heart was racing with emotion that he dared not reveal any other way. He could keep his body still, his eyes distant and uninterested, even his face calm and composed, but his heart was quite independent from his will.

"Vivian," he called darkly.

Shaking her head, she began to work again at tenderly peeling the bandages from his lacerated flesh.

She would have given anything at that moment for one glance into the stoic man's heart.

* * *

Vincent refused to avert his eyes from a particular bump of texturing just to the left of one of the blades of the fan. With such a small focal point, it was easy to put what Vivian was doing in the back of his mind. He did wish she would work faster. He knew that she was going slow so as to be as gentle as possible, but he wished it over quickly, and he had endured much worse pain than the ripping of bandages plastered to his skin.

Surely she could see that and so much more now.

He knew all too well what it was that she saw, why her hands drew back every now and again as she lost her breath. As she slowly peeled away more and more of the cloth, she was seeing more and more of his past carved into his very flesh. He knew she saw the thick, deep, long lavender-tinted scars that were accompanied by shorter, thinner pink ones. Though they had long since closed, they remained as a raised record of exactly what had been done to him. Some, though they had been inflicted years ago, were either not fully healed or healed incorrectly; it was hard to judge. On his other shoulder, an identification number had been branded onto him and then repeatedly torn and maimed so it would not heal.

She hadn't even unveiled his burn wounds yet when she let out a wail and buried her head in her hands. The sobbing did not slow or stop. Between shaking, gasped breaths she moaned. "How could anyone…oh, oh _Vincent_!"

She collapsed forward, falling into a chair by his bedside. He didn't move, and focused not only on that dot of texturing, but on a small crater caused by a bursting air bubble near the right edge. His concentration became more intense. He refused to feel her, hear her cries for _his_ anguish.

She must have felt him tense and heard his breathing become more strained, but she couldn't find it in herself to move.

He had been prepared to shield himself from anything and everything except for the glistening tears that spilled freely from those emerald eyes.

Trying to distract himself, he concentrated on breathing, the air coming in harsh gulps, harder to get, even harder to retain. He was starting to feel so very tired... He closed his eyes...

* * *

Vivian looked up from her hands. Was Vincent crying, too? She looked over. No, he wasn't, but she started to wish that.

His chest now rose and fell quickly, his lungs yearning for air, but unable to transport it down so he could breathe fluently.

"Vincent?" she asked worriedly. He had been doing so well; was this a relapse? "Vincent, what's wrong? Vincent!"

She saw now that he had fallen into unconsciousness, unresponsive to her cries.

She ran from the room, towards the nearest phone, dialing the emergency number. Now she could only pray for help to arrive soon enough.

* * *

A/N: I not dead. I survived Band Camp.

School starts on Wednesday. I'll write what I can before them and then continue as my schedule adjusts back to regularity.

A while ago I recieved a review that told me not to let this VivxVinnie thing get out of hand. I promise to keep the sap and romance under control, but I originally did kind of make Vivian for Vinnie. The story will _not_ revolve around them, I just have to have my sap outlet.


	49. Blatant Threat

Everglow - Chapter Forty-Nine

It was mind-numbingly cold. The arid landscape had cooled rapidly, the cold from the now freezing dust seeming to seep up through the tires. There had been no cloud cover that day, so the warmth in the air had disappeared in a single breath of wind.

The metal bottom of their cage had registered all of these changes.

Nadiya and Aidan were sore all over. The bottom was textured in a way that hurt to lie on, even bruising Nadiya a little when she flailed in the grip of a nightmare. They huddled as close as they could, side by side, their shivering hands entwined, trying to share heat. Nadiya's wings trembled too, but they kept the very worst of it at bay.

To sleep had seemed a daunting task when they had first lain down, but somehow, with patience, it came.

The release was not to last long.

Aidan had been up for a while, staring out the windows. It was dark out, and eerily silent after having heard the gentle murmur of the car's engine all day. It was almost more lonely, like some assurance taken for granted had been taken away. He was still, but he was also very uneasy.

Nadiya's lips were a tinged a light blue-purple. What had their captors been thinking, leaving them out in the young winter's night? The chill was near unbearable.

Earlier, Verian had started to throw in some meager blankets, but Aidan, still furious at his mistreatment and helplessness, had latched his teeth into the hand that entered their cell. When the man had managed to free himself, which had been neither a quick nor an easy task, the offer was harshly withdrawn.

His face was bruised, and Nadiya had sustained no small number of heavy blows from when she had tried in vain to restrain her infuriated brother by putting herself in Verian's way. He'd thought it would feel good to rebel, but now he saw that the only thing it accomplished was getting them more hurt.

Nadiya had not signed anything all night. Already they seemed to be slipping into the tense silence between moments of terror and pain. It was the way it had always been, before they had escaped.

Aidan listened to the sounds of the night, which were rare and far between. Animals were curling up for hibernation. It seemed like a good idea to him. He envied the little creatures that were free to scurry about in the summer and sleep their winters away.

Soon, though, there were other, more sinister sounds than baying wolves and coyotes to listen for.

Verian and Kadaj had rented two separate rooms, one on either side of the parked car. The door on their left opened first; it was Kadaj.

The silver haired man was fully clothed and armed despite the hour, his double bladed katana bare in his gloved hand. Sharply, ignoring the children and the other people in the motel, he rapped on Verian's door.

Nadiya's eyes flew open. The noise had startled her awake. Aidan started to greet her, but she put one finger to her lips to tell him to be silent.

"What's all the racket for?" Verian whisper-shouted. The twins strained their ears. If they concentrated hard enough, they could make out every word.

"Emergency," Kadaj hissed angrily. "We have to get the twins _out_."

"Out where? What's the rush? We can't even take them to base until…"

"I _know_ what our orders are! Hojo just didn't figure _him_ into the equation!"

There was a beat of silence. "_He's_ here?" Verian asked, seemingly disbelieving.

"He will be in about half hour. If that. He always was uncannily early."

"Wait, this doesn't make sense," Verian insisted. "What need does he have here?"

Kadaj scoffed. "If I didn't know him, I'd say lodging. But I _do_ know him and so I'm going with the whole 'check on your underlings' thing."

"…Do you think he suspects?"

"If he does," Kadaj was hissing now, furious, "then we won't give him any evidence to feed off of. Get_ rid _of the_ brats!_"

Aidan and Nadiya clenched their hands tighter, both holding their breath.

"Where to?" Verian asked. "And where will we meet up?"

"Anywhere, and I don't know. Now get out of here before…"

They both counted to ten very, very slowly before Verian spoke bitterly again. "Too late for that, I guess."

Kadaj threw something, and glass shattered. Nadiya jumped, surprised by the sharp noise in the quiet night. "You go get him. I need five minutes with the brats. Keep him busy for that long."

Verian hadn't taken two steps away when their prison door was thrown open. In the half-second before Aidan could react, the man's hands lunged in and gripped Nadiya, violently ripping her from her brother. Aidan started to scream in fury, but the katana against his sister's pale throat silenced him.

"Not. A. _Word_." Kadaj had never looked or sounded so dangerous. To emphasize his point, he drew his blade across the base of Nadiya's neck, just on her collarbone. Two beads of red glinted in the moonlight on the silver katana.

Aidan cried out at seeing the wound, frightened and enraged, but that only gave Nadiya another longer, deeper incision. He dragged the blade across her flesh slowly, leisurely, while Nadiya flailed helplessly, her eyes wild with fright and pain.

"Now," Kadaj began slowly, smirking as he looked down at the once defiant but now broken and stunned Aidan. "I want to make sure we understand each other. A friend of ours is coming to see us. A little surprise visit to see how we're doing."

In a sharp gesture, he jerked Nadiya closer to him and in his fingers, gripped a handful of soft, white feathers. "Have you ever seen an amputation, Aidan? Did Hojo ever let you watch?"

His point made, Kadaj threw Nadiya to the back of the car, letting her bounce and roll against the hard metal.

"See that you keep _silent_, brats."

The door was slammed shut and bolted. Kadaj then threw open the front door and pulled out a large, thick black tarp. He threw it over the back of the car, covering the windows that let in their only source of light. They both heard many ropes being tied harshly around the entire car, from the underbody to the roof.

When he had gone, Aidan silently rose to his feet and let his fingers probe the ground, settling beside the curled up Nadiya when he found her in the darkness. Nadiya laid her head on her brother's shoulder and cried silently, shaking.

Aidan tenderly molded Nadiya's wings around her, urging each bone to curl into position with a light touch. She lifted one into the air, waiting for Aidan to crawl up beside her so she could shield him too, but he shook his head and pressed the soft plumage around her, instead.

She needed it more than he did, after all.

* * *

A/N: Who's coming for a visit? Any guesses?


	50. Cry in the Night

_**A/N#1: Massive, major, explosive cliffhanger at the end of this chapter. You have been warned. Proceed at your own risk and try not to suffer a heart attack.**_

**_Next chapter will be up before tonight ends. Try to last until then!_**

Everglow - Chapter Fifty

Tali had barely spoken for days. When she did, it was like a dead corpse speaking through living lips. There was no tone, no emotion, and no volume to speak of.

But he heard her at night, how she slipped away when she believed he was asleep. He heard how she ran far and hard, once, he had even heard her agonized, anguished cries to the night, her screams of rage, and her broken moans of bitter betrayal, all threaded one after the other with either no transition or a violent one, just one cycle of hurt and pain. The emotions were so heavy they were suffocating, and he wondered how it was she was not crushed.

But it was only in the cover of the night. In the day, she was dead.

He tried to pretend like he hadn't heard, like he hadn't seen the damage done to the few plants remaining in her blind rage. He hadn't known her small knife could dig so deep, or that her rapier could fell a thick cactus in one swipe. It was harder than he thought. How Tali managed to check her emotions so, he would never guess.

They were within sight of Midgar now, but Tali said nothing of it. When she did look anywhere besides the plot of land at her feet, it was behind her, back down the road they had come. To home, he guessed. Maybe to the past as well.

Tali and Kanu had been in love, once. More than that, they had been engaged to be wed. Andrite didn't know, he hadn't been born at the time. From what he heard though, they had been inseparable, one both the shadow and light of the other.

But then times got hard. He was a general, or some other high rank in the army, he wasn't sure. A call had come from the king and he had vanished, just like that.

Tali still wore the ring, even now, even after he had betrayed her so. It was bitter irony that, inscribed on the inside in elegant script, was carved "_Forever and For Always"._

He hoped that they could find the silver-haired twins soon. Maybe then she could catch up with Kanu, make things right, and return home to marry and start the family she had always wanted.

That was how all fairy tales ended, right?

* * *

Nadiya was sobbing.

Though they had been brutally and roughly moved from the car to the motel room to avoid further suspicion, he doubted that it was what was making her cry. When he asked her what was the matter and put a hand on her shoulder she only shirked away and buried herself in the corner and in her soft, white cocoon of her wings.

They could hear voices outside. It had been going on for fifteen minutes, according to the clock on the cheap table. He tried to move to Nadiya where she had wedged herself in the small crook between the bed and the wall, but she pushed him away. Stunned, confused, and a little hurt, he retreated, curling up inside the cabinet instead.

It was another half-hour before the voices stopped, but only five minutes after that before Nadiya had crawled to her brother's side once again.

_"What was wrong, sis?"_ he signed, not daring to speak, Kadaj's threat still heavy on his mind.

_"Do you know who was out there?"_ she replied, pointing a finger to the door. _"With Kadaj and Verian?"_

_"Did they want to hurt us? Were you scared?"_

She shuddered. _"Scared. Yes. But not that way."_ Her lower lip trembled as tears began leaking anew. _  
"Sorry, big brother! So sorry! So sorry!"_

"Nadiya?" he finally dared to whisper. "You didn't do anything wrong. Please don't cry!"

But she only sobbed harder.

_"Aidan, I couldn't let you! They'd kill you!"_

"Nadiya, I don't understand!"

_"I didn't want to lose you!"_

"I know, Nadiya, it's all right." He wondered if he could get an answer out of her like this. This was beyond hysteria; she grasped her knees to her chest and rocked back and forth.

He tried to place the third voice he had heard for a little under an hour. It had been quiet, composed, soft, _beautiful, _but rang with something he couldn't describe. Dignity, maybe? Authority? No…if anything it had been submissive, and it sounded so wrong. Fallen from pride, perhaps. Broken…

But why did it trigger some forgotten memory in his heart? Why did his ears ring with nostalgia?

_"Aidan…"_ Nadiya signed at last. _"It was daddy. It was really him…he was here. I know it…I know that voice…Father was here…he was here…"_

* * *

Kadaj and Verian both breathed a silent sigh of relief when Sephiroth had finally turned his back and glided into the foggy night. It had been a longer visit than either of them would have liked, but at least it was all formalities. Had any new orders been issued? Was the strategy still unchanged? It was all stiff, unfeeling things like that.

Kadaj still enjoyed dropping subtle hints about the new project Hojo was preparing for. With Aralyn as the subject, of course.

It would have been more satisfying if he had showed his anguish any other way than flashes of rage in his green eyes. But all in all, it hadn't been a total failure. Sephiroth would probably lose sleep over it later.

Revenge was so close he could taste it. Kadaj had to carefully conceal his anxiety. One slip now and it would all be a waste.

He had waited since his creation; he could wait a few weeks more.

"I didn't hear a sound from the room," Verian said casually. By the glint in his eye, Kadaj knew that he, too, was contemplating his reward.

"Smart kids," Kadaj replied smugly. "He may be strong, but he'll concede to what's best for his sister."

A few hundred yards behind them, they heard the hotel room door slam against the concrete exterior. A flash of gleaming silver hair in the moonlight, and deafening, frantic screams rent the night as the small figure sprinted blindly forward.

"Perhaps," Verian said slowly, "we spoke too soon."

Kadaj's katana was drawn in his hand. "His mistake," he snarled. "Get Nadiya. Make sure she stays put, I'll get the boy."

* * *

Aidan had frozen for only half a minute. "Nadiya, listen to me. I'm going to get daddy, and then we'll come back for you. I'm not going to let you go to Hojo again."

He had twisted the deadbolt and thrown the door open before Nadiya could stop him.

He had never run so fast because he never had such a purpose to run. His body knew this. His heart was racing, the adrenaline's effects running on full from the first leap across the threshold. The voice had disappeared only moments ago, and he would not be traveling full speed.

He had to be close, he just _had_ to be. Their freedom depended on it.

_A family_. It had been something to only dream on in Hojo's lab. With Vivian and Vincent, they had a taste of love, moments of bliss together, a sense of belonging and a bond that neither of them had ever known.

Now his father was within his reach. Just a little farther…

But two cold, strong hands had other ideas for him.

He was gripped around his waist, one arm restraining him while the other gripped his arm and twisted it behind his back until Aidan was unable to restrain his cry. "Smart idea, kid," a voice seethed in his ear. "Really smart."

"No!" Aidan screamed. This couldn't be! Hojo…the lab…the experiments…

…and Nadiya's wings…the amputation…

_"Daddy!" _Aidan wailed into the night. _"_Daddy! Help us! Please_! DADDY!"_

He refused to stop screaming even as Kadaj dragged him away. He writhed with everything he had, fighting to get free. Kadaj grunted as Aidan's leg connected with his shin with all the strength he could muster, but he didn't release his captive even as he folded in two.

It became a full scale battle on the ground, Kadaj using his strength and experience to try to pin Aidan to the grass and regain control. But the job wasn't so easy. Despite being small and untrained, Aidan was running on pure desperation, instincts perhaps inherited from his father kicking into play.

He never stopped screaming, not once, until Kadaj's hand found his throat and the breath was choked from his body. "Shut up!" Kadaj screamed, ramming his shoulders against the ground.

"Da…dad…help…please…da—"

* * *

Kadaj finally slung Aidan's unconscious body over his shoulder, trying to ignore his bruises right now. Revenge could come later. He scanned the horizon for a long time, searching for any sign that the General had heard.

As he had thought, there was nothing but the lonely wind came from the direction the General had disappeared in.

He would enjoy telling the twins how their own father had abandoned them as he began to work on Nadiya's wings.

* * *

Sephiroth turned into the wind, sure that he had heard a voice.

_"Daddy! Help us! Please! DADDY!"_

He stopped standing on the top of the hill. The child's longing, pleading cries had a surprising impact on him.

Why?

_"Daddy!"_

The wind kept carrying the calls to his sensitive ears, ringing like nostalgia in his heart. The sound, so much like his own cries when his father had put him under the knife, reverberating from his memory. So much like his son's might have been had he survived, so innocent and pleading, like his first newborn cries. The memories flooded like rain.

But that's all they were – memories.

Sephiroth turned away, flinging his wing around him to block the fading callings.

* * *

Kadaj entered drenched in the rain, the thunder booming behind him, the harsh sound not as real as the door slammed, locking the twins inside with two enraged men.

Kadaj threw Aidan to the ground, who hit, bounced, and rolled brokenly into a corner, sobbing quietly in defeat.

"Verian," Kadaj said as he drew his katana once again. "Hold Nadiya down. This is going to get messy. Once she's subdued, you go to Aidan. Make sure he watches this."

* * *

A/N: I DID warn you. Didn't I? Yes, I did. Right there, at the top, before the first word, in bold, italic, underlined text.

If you made it this far, try not to panic. It hasn't happened yet. Maybe there will be someone to come along...like the magic fairy of happiness! (twiddles thumbs nervously)

And congrats to Link Fangirl01, who was the only one to guess it.


	51. Titles of Yore

Everglow - Chapter Fifty-One

Something, maybe another glimpse of the twins, jolted Tali from the first real sleep she'd had in a week.

The swish of rolled cloth and the zip of rope against rope awakened Andrite as she tied the baggage to her pack. "Up," she insisted, sparing him a curt, urgent glance before resuming her packing. "Now."

He was glad to see her old, business-like snap back. Lately it had been like she'd been swimming in over-cooked lemon custard. Of course, that came with the promise of impending danger, too.

"What'd you see?" he asked.

Andrite had known better than to expect and answer.

But it did feel so good to be moving with a purpose again.

* * *

Aidan couldn't bear to look, to know that his recklessness had caused this. What could he do now? His eyes darted around the room, still avoiding his sister. A lamppost? Could that be used as a weapon?

No. He couldn't take them both, and Nadiya would get it double.

Nadiya was fighting to the end. He could hear the rapid swish of her wings beating and the frustrated grunts of the men that tried to pin her. Something crashed and broke. The mirror…then the television… She was trying to wake the other guests in the motel.

He might have been proud of her if he hadn't been so deep into despair.

How long would it be before they made him witness?

He wished he could curl up in a ball and die.

Kadaj let out a happy cry of success, the struggling stopped, replaced by Nadiya's rapid gasping. He could almost hear her racing heart from there.

He wasn't sure what was more daunting: the look in her eyes or the knowledge that she would never, as long as she lived, blame him for this.

"Where is daddy now?" Kadaj taunted. "Why isn't he here to save you?"

He would have said so much more, but a sharp rap on the door stopped his voice and the descending knife.

Kadaj's eyes narrowed to slits as he withdrew only an inch, his expression daring the outsider to knock again. They did. It was no mistake or illusion.

Nadiya fainted, falling out of Kadaj's grip to land on the floor. Kadaj kicked her body aside, smacking it against the wall, and stomped to the door.

"What?" Kadaj growled at the two strangers at the door.

The regal woman in the long blue robes stepped across the threshold, dragging a similarly dressed young boy behind her. "Lord Verian," she gasped in wonder. "You…you have them!"

Kadaj looked at Verian. "_Lord_?" he asked. "When did you acquire this ancient title of yore?"

"At birth," Verian muttered, before going to the woman, who was stroking the cowering Aidan's silver hair in wonder.

He let her acquaint herself with the boy before beginning the introductions. "You know me, but who are you, and what are you doing in Midgar?"

The long, black braid gently slapped her back as she turned briskly to him. Her eyes were gently slanted, revealing her southern island heritage. Her skin was a soft mocha color, further solidifying his guess.

"I am Tali. The boy is Andrite. We hail from the Seventh Point Isle. We are here for the same reason you are, Lord Verian of Bellarieve."

Verian's face was too composed to not be hiding something. "…I see."

"You of Bellarieve are not the only ones to have your lore. We have traveled for months. It is good to have a taste of my home continent again."

A corner of Verian's lips twitched. "Might I suggest you stay the night here? It is late, and we can discuss this further in the morning."

"Thank you, I think we will. Squirt needs a bath and it will be good to sleep in a bed again."

The formalities and small talk went on forever. It was an hour before the new pair was safely out the door.

"What _was_ that?!" Kadaj exploded, at his wits end.

"A very troublesome inconvenience." Verian admitted. "One that will need to be treated with care, or it could be fatal."

"Oh, right." Kadaj played along mockingly. "High and Mighty Lord Verian will fix it. Oh, and who's your lady?"

"Gloria Dawn, of course," Verian looked at him as if it were obvious. "By birthright, she is mine."

Kadaj threw his hands in the air. "Oh, great. I'm in the middle of a court feud and a betrothal of lore in addition to the insufferable brats!"

"So we'll drag them along with us," Verian suggested. "Let them stay near their precious Children of Promise. Hojo can take care of them when we drop the brats off."

Kadaj turned around and hissed at Aidan. "Okay, hear that? Nadiya gets to keep her wings if you never say a _word_ about this! Understood?"

The little boy was too much in shock to do anything but nod numbly as he trembled.

"They did keep quiet when they came in here," Verian admitted. "Give them that old half sandwich or something. They've been good."

"Ha!" Kadaj laughed harshly. "Reward enough that I'm not sawing those overgrown chickens off her back right now. Get them back in the car. They can starve for the next forty eight hours."

* * *

A/N: I told you not to have a heart attack. ;)

I'm not to proud of this chapter. I might rewrite it later, but hey! It's something before school starts in 16 hours...(sobs hysterically)


	52. Walk, My Love

Everglow - Chapter Fifty-Two

She was walking when he found her next. One hand gripped the featureless wall, but she was moving, a feat he hadn't witnessed in weeks.

He stayed in the doorway to watch her for a while. He carefully observed her breathing, how she inhaled as she lifted her foot and swung it forward and exhaled as she planted her heel to the floor and hesitantly shifted her weight. It was a slow process, very deliberate, precise, and controlled. It had to be. He couldn't miss how her knee quivered dangerously every time weight was applied, as if on the verge of giving out.

But through it all, her head was high, her eyes having regained much of their clarity and alertness. Her spirit was far stronger than her body right now. It made him smile ever so softly to see her determination manifest in such a small way.

At the corner, her step size decreased significantly, her feet turning her slowly perhaps a degree or two at a time. She was patient; so was he. After triumphantly sidling around the tricky corner, she found herself staring straight into his eyes. "Oh!" she gasped in joyful surprise. "Sephiroth, you're here!"

He glided forward to take her in his arms, holding her tightly so her weight was on him and not on her failing knees. She couldn't hide a breath of relief as he did so. She was still too thin, too light in his hands, too frail.

"Aralyn," he breathed into her ear, gently. "Are you all right?"

"I'm…fine," she said, but the lie was clear.

"What hurts?" he persisted without a beat's hesitation.

Aralyn groaned despite herself. "What _doesn't_ hurt?"

Frowning, he lifted her feet from the ground and tried to gather her up, aiming to set her back on the bed, but she forced her feet back down. "None of that," she insisted. "I'm tired of lying down. I've done nothing but for weeks."

He wasn't sure what was worse: seeing her too sick to do anything but writhe in pain in her bed and scream weakly, torturously, or to see her up, walking with trouble, fighting in vain against the poison in her veins.

She didn't allow him to thread his arm under hers to support her on her walk, but she did let him hold her hand, squeezing comfortingly. He adjusted his long stride to match hers, and slowed his pace so he was always by her side. They moved in tandem.

"Has Hojo given you the antidote?" he asked.

"Oh Seph, there is no antidote! He gives me substances that cancel the effects of the last one to keep me alive, but then the new stuff just harms me in another way. There's no end. It's a cycle."

He should have guessed. Hojo would want to eliminate that window of opportunity between the time the antidote was given and the next poison administered. It seemed he had calculated a way of doing so.

"You need to stop worrying about me. You are in the greater danger, my angel."

His eyes dimmed. "Not anymore, Aralyn. Not if he finds out what I've done, what I plan to do."

Aralyn's eyes shone with hope. "Oh, Sephiroth, that's wonderful!"

It _wasn't_ wonderful. He wanted to die from the thought of what would be done to Aralyn if Hojo found out. But this way, if he proceeded with caution, and no word of it escaped on the wind…

"…You're hoping that now I'll stop asking you to kill me," Aralyn finished softly. "You think there's another way, don't you?"

"There _is_ another way!" he cried, his voice breaking. He let go of her hand and stepped a few paces away. His hands were on the side of his head, his body bent in agitation. "There _has_ to be!"

"Sephiroth…"

"Don't say it, Aralyn, I can't bear it anymore. I refuse to believe it!"

Aralyn was quiet for a long time, but he heard her slow steps toward him almost immediately. Softly, she put her hands around his neck and drew close to him.

"I won't say it again. Not if it hurts you so." But she wasn't withdrawing her words, either. She still stood by her belief, unshaken.

"Give me a chance to do it my way," he pleaded. "One chance. It's all I need."

She nodded solemnly. "Anything, my angel. I know that whatever it is, when the time comes, you'll do what's right."

With that, too, came the implication of the unthinkable. He ignored it. "I'll sweep you off your feet and together, we will fly to Faramir, back where we belong. We'll put all of this behind us. We'll live the life we always dreamed of, Aralyn."

She smiled wistfully, dreamily. "I'll hold you to that promise. If…if I die, after you've lived your life, and we reunite with our children in the Lifestream, I'll still hold you to it."

He let her have her victory on the matter. It wouldn't come to that.

He would ensure that with his very life.

* * *

A/N: It's the weekend! Band chaos hasn't gone into full hazard yet, so I'll still be able to post most Saturdays and Sundays.

Anyway, we've been morbid, so here's some rather pointless, sappy fluff.

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. So SWEET!


	53. Deadline

Everglow - Chapter Fifty-Three

Something smelled like rubbing alcohol.

Vivian wrinkled her nose; the scent was too close and it made her nose tickle. Not wanting to sneeze and disrupt the serene quiet of the room, she urgently swiped at the tiny pinpricks with her hand.

To find, of course, that something was holding it back. Plastic. Lots of it. And tape. Medical tape.

_Oh!_

The monitor blared a short burst of noise as her heart accelerated. This turned out to be a good thing. While her mind had blared to get up, to run as quick as possible, her body was still slightly disconnected from her will. The single staccato note had triggered the instinct to stop, to fall gently back down, and then rise again with more caution.

The heart monitor continued on its merry way with the characteristic, monotone beeping.

"Hey Vivi, nice to see you up!"

Vivian blinked a couple times and then observed her surroundings. She was in the hospital, with all the white and the silver and the stale, tasteless air. One of the young trainees who had been here for less than a month sat smiling at her bedside. Her hair was a shock of red, curled tightly and falling to her jaw. Freckles spotted under her eyes and across her nose.

"Krissa?"

The redhead's curls bobbed as she turned back to her clipboard. "Memory, intact. Quite coherent. Seems to be able to move without pain…you're doing quite well!"

Vivian smiled half heartedly. "Good to see you, Krissa."

Krissa smiled widely, revealing bright white teeth. "You can take the IV out if you want. And I'll work on getting you some real food, for a change."

"That's…good to know," she said distractedly as she tugged on the loose end of the tape and began to unwind it rapidly, ignoring the burn in her hand as she did so. Why did she feel like she was forgetting something?

_Vincent!_

"Krissa!" Vivian nearly shouted. "Where is Vincent?"

"Golly, Viv, you need to calm down. You aren't so hot yourself, either." Krissa shrugged. "Vincent's all right. Sleeping, I think. Though I swear when I take one step in that room he shoots up, it's _so_ creepy."

"So…he is all right?"

Krissa frowned and gnawed on the tip of her pen. "Yeah…" she said the word slowly, drawing out every sound to buy her time. "He'll certainly _live_." Her frown deepened a little. "Yeah…yes…certainly." But she sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

"You're not lying to me?"

Krissa huffed and put her hand on her hips. "Gaia, girl! I was assigned to _you_. Let the big professionals work on Mr. Vampire. What do I know? Go and see for yourself!"

"I'm sorry, Krissa," Vivian said sincerely. "I've just been on edge and things are getting…tangled. Tense."

Krissa shook her head. "I kind of figured that. Normal people generally don't have stab wounds in their ribs. Don't worry about it. But hey! If you fall over in the hall or something, remember, I'm not the one who gave you permission to be out of bed."

"Thanks, Krissa," Vivian said as she rose. "I'll remember that."

"You better," Krissa mumbled. "I don't even want to _think_ about how long my internship would be suspended."

"Oh," Vivian added as she stepped across the door. She remembered Sephiroth, his warning, and his deadline. "How long have I been here, Krissa? Down to the hour, please, this is important."

"Eh…" She looked at her wristwatch. "Seventy-two hours?"

Vivian's heart skipped a beat, she couldn't breathe.

"Wait no…stupid thing," she amended, smiling, unaware of the gravity of the effect her answer would have. "If you want it down to the minute, Eighty-four hours, forty-six minutes, and twenty-three…twenty-four…twenty-five…"

Krissa continued to count, smiling at her own dry humor, but stopped as she looked up to see Vivian frozen in place.

All Vivian heard, all that she needed to know, was that three days had passed.

And Sephiroth hadn't returned.

* * *

Mara had been out playing ball with her friends when the spots appeared.

At first it was fun. They had been outside on this snowy day playing dodge ball from their own snow-fortresses. A plane had flown overhead. Mara remembered because it was flying really, really low. Normally a speck in the sky, this one seemed that if she reached up, she could grip a good sized toy in her hand. It was loud too, and the gust of wind that had trailed behind had thrown her hat from her head. Her friends and she had squealed at the cold and then, when it had passed, returned to the game.

In an hour, when she took her hat, gloves, and coat off for come hot cocoa, they had been there.

They had giggled. What fun, to have such a game planned for them! All over her neck, her hands and arms, blotches of light gray and purple made her printed like a snow leopard.

So she had been the huntress, naturally, when they had returned outside. Everyone else was the mice, and Mara had a lot of fun chasing them until they all fell to the snow, exhausted but elated.

But then the spots began to burn.

She had come in the door sobbing loudly; it hurt so bad! Her mother, alarmed by her small daughter's cries, rushed to her aid.

She didn't know what the spots were, but she was tucked into bed with a hot bowl of soup and a small television all the same. With a kiss, she had left Mara alone to heal.

But now her mother had them too…

"Mommy," Mara asked. "What kind of sick is this?"

Her mother's hands where she had tenderly examined her own bruise-like blotches were now patterned similarly. She must have touched her face at some point too, as she now looked like she wore an archaic mask of dark, twisting colors over an entire side of her face.

"Baby, I don't know…"

* * *

A/N: My computer is dying. Like...KABOOOOOOOOOOM dying. It's sad. This was written yesterday but the internet's been down until now. Sorry guys. Between my sinus infection, homework, and marching band...I'm trying. I really am. Thanks for the support, I need it!


	54. Uncertainty

Everglow - Chapter Fifty-Four

Tali had never seen any child alive be so very quiet.

It wasn't just that Nadiya didn't speak. She hardly _moved_ unless absolutely necessary. It was hard to see the rise and fall of her tiny chest as she breathed. Her eyes didn't wander from the spot in front of her. She was frozen alive.

Aidan, if anything, was almost more painful to watch. He assumed the same submissive attitude his sister had, but in body only.

She was no coward. She was the best warrior in her land.

But the glare he gave her terrified the wits out of her. All that hate and rage suppressed, the shards of his broken pride, his unshakable refusal to bend entirely…

Verian assured her and Andrite that there was no room for the children, herself, and Andrite in the front of the car, and that they were comfortable there, actually _preferred_ it there (she thought she had seen a lethal glare from Kadaj, daring either of them to object), and so they were herded into the back. Tali didn't miss how Kadaj had locked them in or the violent kick he had given the side of the car that rattled them against the cold ground. Something had been hissed to them, something that sounded dangerous, but she couldn't make it out from the distance she was.

That was the first sign she had seen about the condition the children were in, but it was not the last, or the most severe.

Andrite and Tali's arrival had signaled a kind of truce. Verian and Kadaj were oddly silent about the twins. Both Tali and Andrite were excited to have seen the Children of Promise, but Verian, who had the most right to be elated, darkened every time they were mentioned.

"When will you return them to Bellarieve?" Tali had asked.

He had hesitated. "It is…not safe for them there. The rebellion, you see."

Tali nodded knowingly, but in truth she had never heard of it.

"I will care for them here in Gaia before we return."

Why did she feel that he was hiding something from her?

Tali had once suggested that Andrite crawl back with the twins, try to make friends with them. After all, he wasn't much older than they were. The first, second, and fifteenth times were met with vehement refusal. "They're not used to outsiders," was the excuse. Kadaj had given a barely concealed snort in the back. "It might frighten them," Verian continued like he hadn't heard.

But when Andrite took matters into his own hands, there wasn't much any of them could do to stop him.

When they had pulled over for the night after a full day's drive, Andrite emerged pale. He had waited until they were away from Kadaj and Verian to tell her.

"It's like they were dead," Andrite said. "The boy just glared at me like a wraith bent on revenge, and when I tried to shake the girl's hand he nearly ripped my head off. He spent the rest of the day with her sort of tucked behind him. He never stopped staring at me; not for a minute. And the girl…it's like she was a corpse."

"They're badly frightened," Tali said. "They're hurt, that's all. Maybe they'll get used to you. Give them time, Andrite."

But she had the feeling that Kadaj or Verian had overheard because the next day, before they were locked up in their cold pen, Tali had seen bruises on the twins' thin bodies.

Verian only confirmed this. "I am sorry the children were so inhospitable to you yesterday, Andrite," he had said. "It will not happen again, I promise you."

Food ran low, and so they stopped at a convenience store. Sensing an opportunity, Tali did not fail to act. Purposefully, she strode to the back, unlatched the door and peeked her head inside, calling to the children. "Come on, dears."

"What are you doing?" Verian asked, not quite hiding his alarm.

"The poor things have been cooped up all day. They can come in the store. It will be a chance to stretch their little legs."

Neither of the children moved from where they were huddled in the corner.

Verian grimaced in defeat. "Go on in, I'll bring them out."

By "bring them out", he meant that Kadaj would seize their ankles and drag them, dropping them to the ground below.

They entered meekly, heads down. Tali tried to smile sweetly and took their hands. She suspected that it was only because Kadaj was watching that they didn't pull away. Nadiya trembled, her eyes shining. Aidan, bound by the promise of punishment, couldn't even reach out to comfort her.

Tali grabbed a cart and began to gently herd them down the aisles. She talked softly, trying to persuade them that she was a friend. It was not an easy task.

"What kind of bread do you two like? Hm?" Neither answered, so she frowned and picked a loaf that looked kid-friendly. "You like jam or jelly? Any meats? Here's some soups! I bet we can find a way to heat these on the road, would you like that?"

The cart was now full. Everything in it was for the twins. Fruits, snacks, full meals, even blankets and two soft, puffy pillows were only a few of the relief kit.

She was pleased to see that the banquet had caught Aidan's attention.

Verian was not pleased. "What is that?" he asked condemningly.

"They're stick thin! They need all they can get! And it's too cold to have them uncovered in the back of a truck in the winter. The pads are to make the bottom a little less harsh. I'll pay, don't worry." She released the twins' hands and lightly pushed them away. "Why don't you go pick out a treat? You can get anything you'd like."

Terrified both to go and to stay, it still took a lot of coercion before they timidly headed away on their own.

Aidan returned with a small chocolate bar, and Nadiya with a miniature candy cane. There was no barcode on the peppermint, though. It took little investigation to see that Nadiya had found a huge box of the candy in bulk, but had only wanted one. Innocent and naive, she had opened the box to take her solitary prize.

When they found out that this was bad, Nadiya burst into tears, trying hastily to put the candy back in the box and covering the hole she had made with her hands.

It hurt to see how Nadiya looked at her, expecting to be punished for her crime.

Tali had no doubt that she had been trained to expect abuse for her childish naivety.

She slowly reached out, wincing as the little girl shied away with a gasp, and, as tenderly as she could, took Nadiya in her arms and picked her up like and infant.

"It's okay, little one, the whole box will last you longer anyway. You'll like that, won't you?"

She didn't sleep that night, wondering how she could cooperate with the two men who treated the Children of Promise like this.

How could the benevolent Lord Verian do a thing like this? Even if it was Kadaj that did the direct deed, how could he tolerate it?

* * *

_File 0067159_

_Subject: Lyn; Age 5_

_Ailment: unclassified_

_Symptoms: She has fallen into a coma and the odds are against her that she will ever awaken_

_Status: Too many of her vital organs have been eaten away. She is on life support and in a coma. It is estimated she has another forty-eight hours to live before her heart is consumed…_

_We are working to find her family to inform them of the news._

_Professor Hojo has won his first victory._

* * *

A/N: Happy...August...what is it?...22nd!!

No homework this weekend!! So I am free to write until my heart bursts! I hope to have a chapter (or two!) up before tonight, along with an additional little surprise...


	55. Phenomenon

**A/N#1: For those of you who haven't read Broken Wings, just know that Aralyn and Sephiroth grew up together at Shinra.** **This is a flashback to that time.**

Everglow - Chapter Fifty-Five

_They had agreed to meet at one-thirty, but now it was two, and Sephiroth was left standing in the lobby with nothing better to do than shuffle his feet. _

_Soon enough though, he heard the wheels come down the hall._

_Aralyn smiled sheepishly. She was in her hospital gown again instead of the small but effective wardrobe she had been provided with. Her right hand held a silver pole that was twice as tall as she was. Four wheels were put on the bottom so she could wheel it around wherever she went, and it was further attached to her arm by what looked to be a series of IV's. From her wrist to her elbow, supporting and surrounding the silver needles, was a brace on top of a thick layer of medical tape._

_"Check up with Hojo," she explained. "It…ran a little overtime."_

_Sephiroth grimaced. "And he's making you wheel that pole around?"_

_Aralyn shrugged. "I got lucky this time. Gast pulled a few strings." _

_He looked the pole up and down for a moment, contemplating. "We're going to have to get rid of it." He opened the door to her room and cracked the window open, propping the edge of the pole against it and moving to free her from the brace. It would be a long fall for the expensive equipment…_

_"Come on, Seph. It sends my vitals to him by radio. He'll know if we disconnect it."_

_"You're probably right," he admitted. Not daunted for long, Sephiroth gripped the pole and dragged Aralyn along the hall. "I've got another idea."_

_She hadn't lived too long at Shinra, but knew enough to see the general idea of where Sephiroth was taking her. "Oh no, bad, bad, _bad_ idea Sephiroth."_

_"Trust me! I've done this a million times!"_

_"What if we're caught? Hojo will be furious!"_

_"Then we'll just have to not get caught. Easy."_

_"Seph…"_

_But the President's door was open before she could stop him. He pulled her in quickly to avoid the gaze of a janitor that had been passing by._

_"Aha!" he cried in triumph. "Finally, a use for this bag of bones!"_

_Aralyn hadn't had a spare second to examine the elaborate office before Sephiroth began removing first the brace, then carefully peeling the tape away. "Okay, get really close here, I'll have to do this quick…"_

_The "useless bag of bones" was a very large, very lazy looking dog._

_"Seph, what is this?"_

_"My worst nightmare," he murmured. "You don't even know how much trouble this dog has gotten me in."_

_Aralyn eyed the dog skeptically. The dog looked rather like a pile of oddly folded white towels. Its eyes weren't even visible under the rolls of fat. The dog didn't so much as move as they got closer, and Aralyn wondered if it was sleeping, dead, or just so oblivious to reality that it didn't matter. It didn't look like the kind of dog that would do anything, much less have the cunning to frame the quick Sephiroth._

_She would ask about those stories later._

_Sephiroth started at her hand, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles around where the needle was as the other eased it out of her arm. Before it could be exposed to air for a single second, it was implanted in the dog's neck._

_"What in Gaia are you doing?"_

_"Hojo will get his vitals, you'll be free, we'll all be happy!"_

_"He'll be getting the information from a dog."_

_"All the better!"_

_"I don't even want to think about what he's going to do to us…" Aralyn moaned._

_But it did feel good to have her arm back. And the dog never did seem to register what was going on even as he was repeatedly jabbed with needles._

_It would be a good plan._

_Until they got caught…_

* * *

_It had been a wonderful, blissful two hours of freedom. But all good things had to come to an end._

_A very ugly end, in this case._

_Hojo had showed up with the pole in his hand, the cords and needles dangling uselessly. Both of their laughter had ceased immediately, both freezing in place._

_"Very amusing, Sephiroth," Hojo sneered. "Now, if you both will come with me…"_

_Aralyn knew Sephiroth would put up a fight, but she wished he wouldn't. It would only make his punishment worse in the end. Hoping to prevent that, she took his hand and attempted to drag him along. She should have known better than to try. He was about as movable as the Northern Crater._

_"Come on," she pleaded. "Please? For me?"_

_"Aralyn, we can't give in!" She knew his pride, and how much it disgusted him to be treated like a lab rat on a leash. But she would rather see him tamed than hurt._

_Something was lighting up the sky and then Sephiroth was looking at her, open mouthed. _

_"We have to go!" Aralyn insisted, ignoring the sky. Probably just lightning. There had been a chance of rain today. Her voice was rising. She had learned not to cross Hojo the first time. The memory still haunted her._

_"…Yeah…" he said distractedly, his eyes fixed on the sky. "Yeah… inside…please…yes. Now. I'm coming just…try to…yeah, I'm coming."_

_Aralyn didn't argue. _

_As soon as they were inside, the scientists had gripped her wrist. "You are coming with me, number forth-six."_

_Sephiroth followed numbly, shock still clearly written on his face._

_Hojo didn't try to stop him._

* * *

A/N: It occurs to me that this will mean a lot more to those of you who have read Broken Wings. Sorry about that one...

Well, I did post on time...it's not a new day yet. And I have a new surprise for you all.

It was excruciatingly painful, but I have written a synopsis for Broken Wings. Yes, I would prefer for you to read it, but I do understand that 82 chapters on a computer screen isn't easy on the eyes.

Now all I have to do is find a place to put it...


	56. Lethal Gambit

Everglow - Chapter Fifty-Six

The first surprise Vivian received was that Vincent was standing when she entered his room. He was by the rather large window, which was open, his cape flowing with the gentle breeze. He was on his own now, with no rail or wall to help hold him erect. He stood tall, but she could only imagine the sacrifice that was; his stomach had been too badly torn to not be causing him at least a little pain.

The second was that, speaking to Vincent in hushed, hurried tones, was Sephiroth.

Vivian couldn't help a cry of surprise. The men turned to her, both of their faces grave and solemn. Sephiroth greeted her with a curt nod of his head, Vincent with nothing more than an unintentionally dark gaze.

"You're alive!" Vivian cried, not sure to which of the two men she was speaking to. Both, she assumed.

"Only by a small miracle," Sephiroth replied. He shifted, turning his head away, almost uneasily. "But I am sorry for troubling you."

"Vincent?"

"I am well enough," he said, his tone closing the subject to discussion. "There are more important things to attend to."

Vivian came forward a little so she could be included in the hushed discussion. "How is your wife?" Vivian asked softly, addressing Sephiroth.

His eyes became distant, almost dreamy, but in a dark, haunted way. "Aralyn is strong," he replied sadly, quietly. "She is…alive. Her spirits are high and unbroken. That's all I can really say on the matter." He at last looked back to Vivian and Vincent, calm and collected as ever. "I pray we will see her soon. Let's return to the task at hand so we can keep that hope."

"What did I miss?" Vivian asked, jumping in with determined enthusiasm.

"A story I do not care to retell," Sephiroth replied. "Valentine will tell you later if you are interested, but time is short. Why did you call me back, Vincent?"

Vincent replied quickly, with no hesitation, but spoke deliberately. She wondered if he had rehearsed it all. "I'm sorry to call you away from your wife. She is an amazing woman, and if it were possible at all, I would leave you two in peace, but I must ask you to leave her life on the line for a little longer."

Sephiroth's gaze turned flat dark. Only his trust for Vincent kept his ears focused on what was being said.

"I know you are at the threshold of saving her life, but understand that if you do it now, you will both regret it for as long as you live."

Sephiroth was clearly furious, enraged, but was nonetheless weighing Vincent's words carefully. "How much time are you asking for, and more importantly, why? What is so important that I abandon my wife to Hojo?"

"I am not asking that," Vincent said quickly. "And I ask only for a week. Two, at the very most."

"If you could see what she is suffering you would not speak of time with such levity!" Sephiroth spoke as if pained, through clenched teeth.

"I know full well of what you speak, Sephiroth," Vincent's voice was equally as tense and urgent. "I, too, was a victim of his. I am not naive enough to think for a second that this will not be a tremendous sacrifice for either of you."

Sephiroth was silent and tense for a long while. "I will hear you out because I know you will not disregard Aralyn's life, Valentine, but I have another factor for _you_ to weigh into your equation."

"Name it then."

"Aralyn is with child," he stated simply.

Vincent and Vivian stood stunned beyond words. During this relapse when they were silent, he elaborated after letting this grave fact settle in.

"As of now, Hojo doesn't know. But her last pregnancy was unusual compared to other women. The symptoms are tell-tale, and so easy to see. She will not be able to hide the signs for long, and then the child's life will either be ended then and there or it will be condemned to a life in the laboratory. Either way, you are asking me to potentially sacrifice both my wife and my unborn child to Hojo."

* * *

Vivian's head was whirling. It had all seemed so clear up until now. They would rescue Nadiya and Aidan and then go back for Aralyn.

But now…

There were so many things that could go wrong. Suppose they got the twins, and Kadaj and Verian sent a message to Hojo. Vivian had no doubt that Aralyn and the baby would be murdered on the spot.

But suppose they didn't, and assisted Sephiroth instead. There went the children's last hope. They had to be rescued soon, before they got to Hojo, which may well have already happened.

But Aralyn and the infant needed that time too. None of them could wait.

If they split up? No…Verian and Kadaj would alert Hojo or vice versa.

It was looking like any way they put it, one party would have to be sacrificed.

When Vincent regained his voice, he asked, "How long?"

"Perhaps a week, but two is out of the question." He looked away. "I came to ask for your aid. I wanted to take her somewhere far away, so far that the tracker in her arm would be of no use. I was hoping you might be willing to buy us some time."

"Have you already released the cure?"

"No," Sephiroth replied. "If I had, I would not even be considering what you are saying."

"You…you have the cure?!" Vivian cried.

Sephiroth nodded sadly. "But the second I release it, Aralyn will be killed. You can see my need for delicate timing."

It was a simple plan. Sephiroth would run with Aralyn and on the way out, give the cure to Rufus Shinra. But there was still one major kink he hadn't explained.

"What about the poison?"

Sephiroth looked at her earnestly. "The Everglow," he said reverently.

"The…the _what_?"

"I will leave the details for later," Sephiroth insisted. "But you still haven't revealed your motives."

Vivian had been ready to tell him. She had the sweet picture Nadiya had drawn in her pocket. But now, after all had been said, she found her voice quite gone.

Vincent took the job for her. "Sephiroth, you saw the children's rooms in the home when you rescued us. Vivian told you that we were caring for them until their parents could return."

"Right," Sephiroth agreed. "But what does that have to do with…?"

"Everything!" Vivian choked out. Vincent looked at her and nodded. She had Sephiroth's undivided attention.

She had to do it now.

"They're _your_ children, Sephiroth! We _were_ caring for them until their parents could come back. _You_ are their father. Nadiya and Aidan, you remember them! They're alive, and Kadaj and Verian have them! They captured them and are taking them back to Hojo! You have to help us…"

Sephiroth held up his hand to stop the outpouring of words. His face was deadly calm, and as smooth and unreadable as it had ever been.

They waited a long time for him to say something, _anything_.

"…I see," he murmured as he turned and exited the room, not looking back.

They both knew that he didn't believe a word they had said. Furthermore, they had awakened an ancient agony that may well serve to break whatever trust he had in them.

She would have given anything to see it how he did and then, how to counteract that vision.

"Sephiroth, you've got to believe me!" Vivian wailed after him. "Aidan is as strong as you are, and Nadiya is so sweet and beautiful and innocent! I've seen them! I've _held_ them! They're alive, Sephiroth!"

Vincent's arms were around her waist, holding her back. "Let him go," he said. "Let him think this through."

"He didn't believe it…" she whispered. "The children…they may as well be dead."

"With all that he's seen and been through," Vincent said, "is it any wonder?"

"What will we do?" she sobbed.

"All that we can," he assured her. "This isn't over yet."

Vivian thought about all the scenarios, all the things that could go wrong, and wondered exactly who he was suggesting still had hope.

* * *

A/N: I plead for your honesty. It makes sense to _me_, but if there is anything you are unsure about (and no, I'm not giving away he ending), PLEASE, I BEG of you, let me know. The whole scenario flows seamlessly in my head but on the page...eh, not so much. Please help me out here.

And I will give you some eCheese!


	57. Darker Side

Everglow - Chapter Fifty-Seven

"Home sweet home, brats," Kadaj said lightly as he fished them out of their cell by their ankles. "Enjoy it while you've got it, it's _your_ last stop before the labs."

The twins righted themselves once they were on the ground. Nadiya meekly brushed dust, bread crumbs from their last meal, and wrinkles off her simple, light dress. Aidan wasn't as worried about grooming himself as he was about the surroundings.

They had taken a winding, round-about route to this cave. From where tiny Aidan stood, feet from the maw of the mountain, it looked to be a formidable foe. Its jaws were open wide, perhaps five times taller than Kadaj, and readily eager to swallow them whole.

"Stop staring and start walking!"

The twins were herded into the cave, coaxed on by the fear of the two men that forced them forward into the black unknown in front of them. Tali and Andrite took up the rear, their voices muted as they spoke quickly in a language Aidan couldn't understand.

There was only one flashlight for the whole party, and that was held and controlled by Kadaj. It wasn't much in the first place, and was nowhere near what would be required for such a party by any stretch of the imagination. Most times, when Kadaj was not being spiteful, the angle sent a circle of light that illuminated a mere two or three feet in front of the twins. It seemed a feeble defense against such consuming black.

As they passed further into the earth, leaving the light of day behind them, Nadiya began to shiver. She had never known such total, pressing darkness. The air was too rich, smelling of earth and minerals and decay, and was warm, sticky, and humid. She fought desperately to stay in the center of the circle of light as her brother led her onward.

Aidan always lingered just ahead, shuffling his feet in the powdery dirt to scare away the small, black creatures with blood red eyes before Nadiya could be frightened by them. He held her hand the whole time even as his keen eyes scouted ahead, searching for dips, loose rocks, or stray branches and determining the safest and smoothest route for his terrified sister.

Though the dark consumed their sense of time, it was only a short leg of the cavern. Before five or ten minutes had passed, the bleak opening stretch began to give way to another section. The first change was the ground. What had been a hazardously downward slope had begun to gentle, and then level out entirely. The floor was increasingly less of the fine, thin dust and became more and more rocky. They watched the rock shards beneath their feet grow from dust, to sand, to pebbles, to stones, to small boulders until they were walking on solid rock, a passageway hewn right out of the very mountain.

Slowly but surely, light began to return as well.

The rough, dark rock walls of the chasm were beginning to sparkle. It was dull at first, the twinkles passing so quickly that there hadn't been time to even decipher their color. Like a dying lightning bug, they were nothing but glimmers in the dark, a mirage of hope in this realm of the underworld.

But the glimmers gave way to clearly decipherable pulses of color and light without shape or form, and then, at last, the walls were flecked with crystals like stars against the sky.

Nadiya was taken away in wonder. This didn't seem so insidious anymore. The colors were soft but lively, every vibrant hue of the rainbow was present in its gentlest, muted form. It was not long before the black, dead rock was entirely masked by the crystals. It soon reached a point where the light was no longer needed; the ethereal light of the crystals lit their way.

The narrow tunnel opened up into a wide chamber, the walls stretching forward and to either side to form a rough but spacious circle. At the far end, ahead of them, was a pool of clear, smooth water. There were pathways leading out from there, some lit with crystals, others dark and dismal.

"Here's our camp," Verian said.

Nadiya was already ankle deep in the cool water, her feet making tiny splashes. Smiling, she sat down, her eyes barely above the surface, and blew bubbles.

Kadaj promptly reached down and seized her hair, wrapping it through his fingers so she wouldn't slip as he ripped her from the water. Her feet flailed in alarm, catching the sharp rocks the wrong way. The water around her turned red and her hands reached out for leverage, the blood steadily dripping from the long gashes on her arms.

With a wail of rage, Aidan leapt forward, a sharp rock of his own in his hand. After a silver blur, Kadaj had a wound of his own stretching down his calf.

Tali, who had been farther back, cried out when she saw the scene. She went to Nadiya and snatched her from Kadaj's grip, then grabbed Kadaj's hand, which had been poised to hit Aidan. She pushed him back, out of Kadaj's reach.

"What are you _doing_?" Tali cried. "How could you…_how_? They're _children_!"

"Oh, I'll tell you exactly what I think of these _monsters_…"

"Kadaj, enough!" Verian's command rang. "Have you lost your mind?"

Kadaj sneered. "Get rid of them. No…wait…don't. I'm going to hang around and watch and _laugh_ as he works on them." And then he left.

"Lord Verian," Tali began breathlessly. "Why do you allow Kadaj to abuse them so? Why can't we travel alone? Let's take them to Bellarieve quickly, where they'll be safe."

Verian sighed softly. "I apologize for my associate's behavior. He is not…fond…of children, but he is vital to getting the twins home. I will speak to him about his temper."

"You said that last time," Tali said quietly. "And the five times before that, Lord Verian."

Verian's hand flew out and caught Tali on her cheek, knocking her to the ground. She managed to twist at the last second so her body shielded Nadiya's, but her vision was blurred with tears of pain. There was blood, she could feel it flowing.

"Quiet," Verian hissed. "I know what is best for them. You are with us because of our hospitality. You are disposable. Do not stand in our way."

Verian too walked away, presumably to go after Kadaj.

She unfolded slowly so Nadiya could scamper out from underneath her. She expected the girl to run, but the small arms and her soft, white wings wrapped around her comfortingly.

"Has he always been like this, little one?"

Nadiya didn't answer. Tali knew that she would be punished if she did.

* * *

They had returned after a time, Verian, being the diplomat he was, wearing a smile, pretending like nothing had happened except a pleasurable arrival in a beautiful cave. Kadaj was the dark cloud reminding everyone that something _had_ happened.

"Why here, Lord Verian?" Tali asked at last. "Why this cave?"

He smiled benevolently, a smile she didn't believe in anymore. "What better way to keep the children safe than by having only one entrance to guard?"

_Or only one exit, to keep them in,_ Tali thought. She didn't even know what excuse he would give for what Kadaj had said earlier.

_"I'm going to hang around and watch and __**laugh**__ as he works on them."_

But something had to be done.

She had a feeling that things weren't going to get any better.

* * *

A/N: Somthing's gotta give... ;)

Three day weekend! Next chapter already half done. Next up, we have Vivian and Vinnie and most importantly SEPHY!


	58. Frail Treaty

Everglow - Chapter Fifty-Eight

Vivian and Vincent saw Sephiroth later that night. He had come to them, in the hospital room that was Vincent's until the following morning. He was simply there when they had come back from retrieving their evening meal.

He was impossible to read, and so they trod carefully both literally and in their actions.

Sephiroth regarded them for several seconds with a level face before he spoke.

"I am glad you told me first; this would have torn Aralyn apart."

Vivian blinked several times, waiting for more. Did he believe them?

"I would have had to kill you. That is one pain she cannot withstand."

"But we're not trying to…!"

He held up his hand. "I do not want to hear it. Not now, not ever again. What could drive you to resurrect such pains, I cannot fathom. To think that you might have told Aralyn the same thing is harrowing, even more so in the condition she is in now. If you wanted my cooperation," he slowed down, his voice low, quiet, and anguished, "you did not have to lie, especially about a subject as tender as my children's deaths."

Vivian's mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.

"You do not believe us?" Vincent asked.

Sephiroth's silence made his answer quite clear. He would never believe it. He wouldn't dare to.

"But if you never speak of it again, I will assist you as much as I am able for a short while. Aralyn called and begged me to do so. I gave her five days, but I will be gone not a minute sooner or later."

"What did you tell her?" Vincent asked.

"That you needed me for something that wasn't quite clear as of yet. That was all."

Vincent once again marveled at Aralyn's strength and loyalty. Time and time again she had sacrificed herself for the ones she loved. There was no limit to the suffering she would endure for others. She had lived faithful to her husband even as Jenova, through Sephiroth's body, literally tore her apart, and then years afterward amid persecution.

She hadn't even needed a concrete reason this time.

"When do we leave?" Sephiroth asked.

"Before sunrise," Vincent replied. "Rest well tonight."

Sephiroth shook his head. They all knew that he would not rest until Aralyn was free again.

"Is there something you need for the journey?" Vivian offered. "I'm going into town for supplies."

"I am well enough equipped, thank you." He curtly nodded and turned to leave. At the door, he looked back, examining Vincent and Vivian with a ponderous, wondering look in his eyes.

"I hope by the time this is done I will know your real motivations, and that they were worth Aralyn's pain."

* * *

"What do we do now?" Vivian asked after Sephiroth was gone.

"We show him," Vincent replied. "I don't think he can deny any longer if he sees them himself. We have Aralyn to thank for his help."

Vivian smiled. "We'll show our gratitude by giving them their children back."

"Indeed. Now sleep. We have a long five days ahead of us."

She wanted to give him some kind of farewell, but nothing terribly appropriate came to mind. "Um…you…too, Vincent." It sounded even more forced and awkward than it had in her mind. She cringed and slunk out the door.

Why did she have to be fond of the most unreachable man on the planet?

* * *

There were many bonuses to being out of the car besides physical comfort. Kadaj and Verian seemed to develop a new philosophy about how if they were quiet, they could roam a little. There really was no way out except the passageway that Kadaj sat, ate, and slept in front of, so there was little need for extreme restraint on the twins.

There were endless rooms to explore; the chasms went on into the eternities. Aidan had a devout desire to see them all, no matter how frightening some of them appeared, but Nadiya had stepped inside one and had not roamed since.

This was one of the rooms lighted by the ethereal light of the crystals, the large, spacious cavern held up by stalagmites and stalactites that Nadiya thought of as the elegant pillars of her sanctuary. The ceiling and walls were nearly all crystal, but little threesomes of prisms rose from the floor as well like spring flowers. The ground was level, and covered with the thin dirt that was easy to walk on and soft between her toes.

But she was always found at the far end of the hemispherical room.

From a gash in the wall, at about the level of her head, clear, pure water gushed along into the shallow but large pool. The small waterfall gurgled peacefully, the sound echoing in the cavern, but this effect was not haunting, but gentle and comforting. The pond likewise emptied via a stream that ran into a dark tunnel. She didn't go there to see where that water's flow would take her; she had enough to do there as it was.

Nadiya had never seen so many polished, multi-colored pebbles as were in the bottom of this natural spring. She loved to thrust her hands to the floor and pull up whatever stones she could snag, then lovingly examine each one, admiring its color, its shape, its smooth or sometimes weathered feel. The very best ones were in a small heap on the shore.

Aidan was with her at that time. He had found that the stalactites broke easily enough, and if he broke it at just the right spot, he could make himself an oddly shaped lance that was the perfect size for him. He had been excited, swinging it around, practicing thrusts and jabs and evasive maneuvers, until he found that the colorful mineral did not hold up well against stress. His first lunge, as soon as the tip hit the ground, shattered his new weapon into a thousand star-like shards.

He was trying out a different color then, seeing if the chemical makeup made it any stronger. So far, it wasn't doing too poorly. Nadiya sent her brother a smile and then went back to hunting for rocks.

A shimmer of light in the waters caught her eye.

In wonder, she reached out to snatch it, dreaming of the beauty it would be once she could see it without the distortions of the river. It would be the crowning gem of her collection, the one that put all her others to shame.

But as she stepped forward her foot managed to unsettle the pond's floor, scooting the glimmering stone only a few feet. It was enough. The current that led the water away into the dark passage caught the small stone and away it floated.

Nadiya leapt forward, her hands reaching out again and again for the beautiful gem, but it kept slipping through her fingers. Determined, she didn't even hesitate when the water took her into the black tunnel.

Aidan was calling out for her, sprinting through the water after her, but Nadiya though his worry quite absurd. She was in the dark for less than a minute before the lighted crystals returned again.

Clapping her hands in triumph, she lifted the little rock from the water where it had fallen to rest peacefully amid some other, far less beautiful pebbles. Using her thumb, she began to wipe off the green, fuzzy moss that was hiding most of the little shard of light.

"Nadiya," Aidan said worriedly. He was in the clearing now, standing not far from her. He was looking up, for some reason. "…Who is _that_?"

Tilting her head to one side as a sign of confusion, she nonetheless followed her brother's gaze.

On an island in the middle of the pool, with thousands of prisms of soft blue-green at her feet, a woman with long, brown hair in a pretty dress was locked inside one huge tomb of the blue-green crystal, hands folded over her heart, her face looking as if anguished and pained, her eyes closed, perhaps forever.

_Who?_ A beautiful, feminine voice from nowhere sounded, the sad, mourning tones pealing through the room. _Who…are you, little ones?_

* * *

A/N: Bet you didn't see that one coming! Enjoy!


	59. The Hostage

Everglow - Chapter Fifty-Nine

Tali grit her teeth tight against the harsh sound of the sharpening stone against dual blades. Kadaj had been tending to his weapon with almost fondness for the better part of an hour, and the sound, nearly painful at first, was becoming less and less of a sensation. She hadn't known it had been possible to develop a numbness to sound, but that seemed to be the case.

Andrite, being a child that was slightly less bound by dignity, had wadded up his sleeve and was biting on that. She doubted it helped too much, however.

"Why are they being so quiet?"

Verian had been finishing the remains of his meal, seemingly unaffected by the sound and the way it ricocheted off the cavern walls to echo repeatedly.

Mercifully, the sound stopped as Kadaj looked up from his handiwork, tilting it to see how the single shaft of light glided along the blade, and deemed it at least satisfactory as he sheathed it at his side. "I'll go get them."

Tali rose too. "No, you are busy. Continue on, I'll go retrieve them."

Kadaj eyed her, knowing that she was only trying to spare them more pain, but decided that his blade was worth more effort than the children, sat back down, and removed the stone from his pouch and his katana from its sheathe.

Tali was glad to have the sound muted as she entered the tunnel to the cavern where the twins had gone.

Nadiya was sitting in the pool, her head and shoulders above the water, scrubbing green moss from a small stone, although she did it only halfheartedly, distractedly. Aidan too seemed deep in thought, and the normally bouncing boy was sitting against the wall, his head propped up in one hand, not moving at all.

"Hello," Tali greeted softly, going to the shore of the small pond first. Her feet found a small heap of vastly diverse pebbles and rocks. She smiled at Nadiya. "What a collection! These are beautiful, Nadiya. Did you find all of these?"

Nadiya smiled, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. She held up her hand, where another pebble was tenderly cradled.

"Oh! Would you let me see?"

Nadiya stood up in the water and waded her way back to Tali. The woman knelt down to the little girl's level in anticipation. Nadiya reached her soon enough, but looked up earnestly to the woman. She seemed hesitant to part with her treasure.

"I'll be careful, I promise." Tali held out her palm and Nadiya gently slid the stone into her palm.

The outside was rough, startlingly so, like coarse sandpaper. It looked like a thousand crystals had been crushed to salt-size grains and then compacted together. The glint was there, but it was tiny, as the surfaces the light reflected off of were nearly microscopic. The colors were varied; at one end, it was a soft red, which blended naturally to orange, then yellow, green, blue, and violet; a concrete example of a rainbow, as naturally colored as the real thing.

But she nearly dropped it when it hit her hand. She had held feathers between her fingers with more weight than this stone. And it was so _warm_…

"Wow, Nadiya," Tali said. "This is beautiful. I've never seen anything like it!"

Nadiya beamed and took her stone back, dipping it in the water and gently removing the rest of the persistent moss.

She turned to find Aidan's gaze on her back. He wasn't relaxed and musing anymore, rather, alert and tense.

She counted it as a small miracle that Aidan had let her get this close to his sister.

* * *

"So we will be here _how_ long?" Verian asked.

Kadaj shrugged, not pausing from the care of his blade. "We can't drop the brats off at Hojo's until Sephiroth is taken care of."

"How will we know when that's happened?"

"Oh come on, _Lord_ Verian. You've waited how long for that girl? And a couple more weeks will ruin your life?"

Verian shook his head. "Gloria Dawn is so close to being mine that I can taste it. It's making me impatient."

"Whatever," Kadaj replied as if bored.

The two men occupied themselves with their own individual thoughts until Tali came back, holding Nadiya's hand and helping to carry some of her rocks while Aidan followed behind, carrying his share as well.

"Well, look who it is," Kadaj began sadistically. "Had your _fun_ for the day? Hmm? Enjoying your last days of…"

"I'm glad to see they caused you no trouble, Tali," Verian cut across sharply. The effect had been done, however. It was too late to recall that.

Tali paid them no mind and strolled over to her personal belongings. "Here, Nadiya," she said, pulling out a red silk pouch embroidered with gold thread and silver nuggets. "You can keep them in this."

Nadiya, still startled and frightened, walked numbly over to her little corner, turning her back to Verian and Kadaj as she began to deposit her small treasures in the pouch.

"Bed time," Kadaj announced. "One minute to be asleep or I'll give you a nightmare to keep you brats up!'

* * *

Nadiya closed her eyes, curled up into herself, and wrapped her wings around both herself and her brother, and tried to breathe slowly, deeply, and evenly, but she didn't fall asleep. She had a lot to think about.

They hadn't gotten to spend much time with the woman in the crystal, as Tali had called and they were fearful of anyone else finding her for some unexplainable reason. They had rushed back so they were in the stream when Tali had entered their haven.

She had only had the time to tell them her name.

_Lucrecia_.

Nadiya had tried to avoid memories of her time with Hojo in the labs since their escape, but she found herself returning to them that night. Where had she heard that name?

It took a while, but she finally managed a fuzzy image of a young intern mentioning it once, seemingly throwing it in anger at Hojo. He hadn't liked that; though whether he had been displeased with the name or just her enraged tone she couldn't say. She hadn't ever been seen in the lab again.

It made her sad to think about it, not only was she one of the few who had stood up to Hojo, a feat Nadiya never could steel herself to do, she had once brought them each a pillow and blanket.

They hadn't lasted long, but it was the thought that counted.

She was quite certain that it had mentioned only that once though, and thus could probably be listed under the long list of Hojo's taboos, right among "sugar" and "comfort".

That didn't tell her too much. Hojo hated a lot of things.

She hoped she could go back soon, but she had to be careful. Some instinct told her that Kadaj and Verian would not like this woman.

Satisfied with her new resolve, Nadiya smiled and huddled closer to her brother, who was snoring softly already. She stretched once, and then adjusted herself for sleep, tucking her head in a soft nook in her wing, making sure that the special rock she had found was nestled nicely in her palm.

Her dreams were sweet, her body felt feather-light and her spirits sky-high, which was why it was such a shock when Verian's voice rudely interrupted her innocent fantasies.

"Sephiroth and Valentine are not far, and they've got that insufferable woman with them."

Kadaj hissed some word that sounded like an expletive. "Are they coming _here_?"

"I don't know…"

"Well _find out_!" Kadaj hesitated after the outburst that had made Nadiya jump and Aidan awaken.

"No, change of plans. If they don't know we're here, let's not give them a reason to visit. It could be a coincidence."

"And if it isn't? There's only one way in or out and Sephiroth could plow through us all in a second."

Kadaj thought a moment, then rounded on the twins, glaring at them as he smiled maliciously, speaking mockingly. "But Daddy won't want his little babies to get hurt…"

Verian sensed where this was going quickly enough. "I'll take the girl, he'll do anything to save his little angel."

Aidan threw his arms around Nadiya protectively, but Kadaj shook his head and tore Aidan away instead.

"She is cuter, and something about sniveling girls is usually better, but I bet you anything we could get a good scream out of this one, just for effect. We'll see how much Daddy likes that." He turned to Verian, holding a flailing Aidan captive. "Take the other twerp deeper into the cave."

Aidan bit down into Kadaj's hand with all his strength, red welling from the man's pale flesh. Kadaj hissed what sounded like a curse and pressed his back to the cave wall, pulling his hair until he was looking into his eyes.

"Look, brat. It's you or your sister. Be thankful that she's getting a break. Behave now and I'll consider not sawing off her wings."

Tali had been awoken by the noise and came hurrying into the chamber from the adjacent one where she had slept.

"What's going on?"

"A little pest control," Kadaj lied smoothly. "Aidan's coming to help. No big deal. Go back to sleep."

"Kadaj is going to guard the entrance for a potential threat," Verian continued casually. "Let's go farther in, for our own safety."

Nadiya had to let Tali carry her away from her brother, she was suddenly too weak to move. For the second time, their father was just within their grasp, only to vanish out of their lives again.

* * *

A/N: The plot thickens! What has psycho, crazy Flutist thought up this time?

(head churns - paper pops out) ...CHEESE!!

Still looking for a spot to tack on the synopsis of Broken Wings, which will probably either be at the end of Broken Wings itself or on my personal website. Either way, I'll keep you updated.

I want some cheese.


	60. Hope Revived

Everglow - Chapter Sixty

"We'll stop here for the night."

Vivian was glad to hear it. They had journeyed all day, and while she was eager to find the twins as fast as possible, reason told her that she could do nothing without stamina to act on.

It had been harder than she would ever say to drive herself through feet of snow with fifty-pounds strapped to her back. It was hard to be optimistic about anything, and thus the journey was silent and downcast.

But the whole day she grit her teeth and pressed on. Nadiya and Aidan were being strong, so she had to be too. Never once did a complaint even enter her thoughts, much pass from her lips.

She only worried that it would be too late.

The spot Vincent had found to rest for the night was in a forest; the thick trees above, while dead, gathered most of the snow that had fallen, leaving the barren ground visible. With a few strokes of Sephiroth's blade, any stray branches were cleared, and they were left in a natural dome tall enough for each to stand in and walk twenty feet in either direction.

Vincent hurriedly dismissed himself to collect firewood, but how he expected to find dry timber that would burn for more than a few seconds was beyond her. She suspected that it wasn't so much the wood he was searching for, but a quiet moment of solitude, time to just wander and _be_.

That left her alone with the world's most dangerous man ever. It didn't bother her like it should have.

Sephiroth came up to her without introduction or hesitation and wrapped his fingers around the thick straps at her shoulders, lifting the pack. She felt herself straighten immediately, and blood rushed back into her arms with pinpricks of feeling in its wake.

"Thank you," she sighed, rolling her shoulders back to ease them into normality. That done, she gave him a warm smile and held out her hands to take her pack from him. He did not smile in return, and in fact, set the bag down for her.

"Sit down and rest," he said simply. "I will set up camp."

Vivian's ears reddened. Yes, he had her best interests at heart, (which was an odd concept to grasp, the harder she thought about it) but she wanted to help too. She wanted to be an active participant in this adventure, not a lady to sit and be waited upon as she was carried in a shaded carriage.

"I'm just as capable as you—"

"But you're hurt."

Vivian winced. It was true; she had stepped in a particularly deep pothole that had been invisible under the snow, a trap waiting to be sprung. She had fallen on her face, but had assured the two men that she was unhurt. It had been a lie. Every step since then was a wrenching stab of fire to her ankle. But she hadn't mentioned it even once, and pressed on in silence, bearing it for the sake of the twins.

"And what makes you think that?" she asked, hoping to counter him and cover herself simultaneously. She reached for the tarp in Sephiroth's hands but he jerked it out of her reach.

"I can hear your breathing. It's highly irregular and deep, even for having exerted yourself all day."

Vivian couldn't say anything to that.

Satisfied, Sephiroth nodded and began to spread the tarp on the ground. "Valentine and I will split your pack and carry it tomorrow. That is final. If I think you are able, I will allow you to take it back the next day."

She could see why he had once been the General; his commands were impossible to deny. It was infuriating.

She sat against a tree trunk for a long time, watching as Sephiroth prepared the camp.

"Why did you bring so many things?" Sephiroth asked after a while. "Your pack is nearly double the weight of either or ours."

Vivian told him the truth, but worded it very carefully. "The children we're looking for…they'll be frightened. I brought some blankets and toys to make them feel better."

"…And nearly an entire pharmacy's worth of medicines, it seems?"

Vivian didn't want to answer that one. She had to keep telling herself that the twins would be fine, that she wouldn't need the medical gear, that it was just extra, useless baggage she had brought out of irrational paranoia.

One thought led to another, and soon she was drifting from one idea to the next, not realizing how deep in thought she was until Sephiroth jostled her out of it.

"I have a job for you. That should please you." He tossed her the backpack, which she didn't catch near as gracefully as it had been thrown. "Divide up your belongings. If you divide them unequally, that's your own fault; I'll make Valentine shoulder it. I'm going to scout the area. I'll hear if you call."

She made sure to rearrange the entire camp while he was absent, just out of spite, not even nursing her injured ankle until the job was done.

* * *

Vincent had come back, an armload of wood in his arms. It wasn't ideal kindling, but with a little coaxing from Vivian and tireless persistence from Vincent they got a cozy flame hissing and spitting before nightfall. Vivian excitedly pulled out her camp cooking gear and began to prepare a simple but hot and satisfying meal for three.

Vincent was gone when she turned with a steaming plate of food in her hands. She sighed deeply, and set the plate on the sleeping bag they had set up for him, tenderly arranging a delicately folded napkin, a glass of water, and neatly placed utensils. She doubted he would be back until morning, so she was forced to admit that it had been a wasted effort.

She ate hurriedly, not really tasting anything, just eating out of instinct for sustenance alone, like a wild animal.

But that left one plate still heaped with food.

It was well past dark. The skies were dark, thick clouds covering the stars and the moon. It made her feel downcast and lonely, like her celestial friends had abandoned her. The heavy clouds promised fresh, heavy snow tonight, and she could look forward to waking up freezing and soaked to the bone in the morning, even if the trees above did manage to catch the majority of it.

She took a flashlight from one of her two divided packs and scanned the trees. Sephiroth was not far. He was sitting on a flat slab of rock, his back toward her, his eyes dutifully searching the terrain for possible threats. Vivian picked up the still warm meal and made her way to where he sat.

"I made you food," she said. "It's still warm."

Sephiroth did not look away to greet her or receive her gift. "…Thank you, Vivian. You may leave it here, if you wish."

Vivian shuffled to the edge of the rock, dipped down and set the plate on the stone. "Is…is there anything else I can get you?"

"No, thank you. I am fine."

"When is my watch then?"

"I will wake you at dawn for the journey. Rest well, Vivian."

It was useless to argue over the matter. He was as solid as stone. She had to admit defeat.

He, however, couldn't _make_ her go to sleep.

Deciding not to amend herself, she approached the man and sat beside him. "You're worried about Aralyn, aren't you?"

"Terrified," Sephiroth breathed darkly. It was so odd to hear the word from the strongest man in Gaia, so wrong to hear the sincerity and the hurt.

"I…I'm sure she'll be fine. The…the baby too."

Sephiroth did not answer, only looked out to the horizon and beyond.

"Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?" Vivian asked, trying to lighten the mood with small talk.

"I will treasure whatever child Aralyn brings into this world. I have no preference."

Vivian tried a different approach. "You must be excited then. Another sweet little soul to care for!"

Something shifted in Sephiroth's gaze, but Vivian couldn't place it for a while. _Another_ child, she had said.

He was silent for a long time, piecing his words together with great care.

"Aralyn was dead. There was no spark of life in her body. Yes, she has returned now, but do not think that was because she had any infinitesimal fraction of life in her veins. Her spirit was in the Lifestream."

Vivian patiently waited, understanding the pauses and hesitations.

"Once I asked her if she remembered anything of her time there. She said it's surprisingly clear. She told me stories, basically repeating what _I_ had been doing in her absence. But I asked if she remembered seeing our children there.

"She has no memory of them."

His voice was a toneless, dead whisper. "And that's what hurts the most, knowing that my children have not only died, but they have been exiled from the Lifestream, their spirits have lost the right to even exist. Perhaps it is because of what I…what I have done.

"Am I excited for this child? No. I dread the day it will come into the world that will hate and torture it so. I will not have given Aralyn the child she always dreamed of, I have given her an innocent body and soul to be broken and beaten because of my sin. And if it survives longer than my Aidan and Nadiya, which is the only mercy I can pray upon the child, it will vanish from existence as a hated pestilence to humanity, not because of its life, but because of mine. That is my curse. That is the only thing I can ever pass on to my beloved child…"

Vivian listened in open-mouthed horror, until she couldn't bear it a moment longer. She rose to her feet, turned her back, and ran back to their camp.

She flung herself to her knees and seized the two packs she had prepared at Sephiroth's insistence. Her hands ripped the zipper open and started tearing through the contents, things of all shapes, sizes, and substances flew over her shoulders to land pell-mell behind her. When the first pack was empty, she cried out in frustration and cast aside the bag like the worthless carcass it was.

The second bag, in the very backmost compartment, finally yielded its contents.

As quick as she had come, she ran out of the camp to find Sephiroth where she had left him, his head in his hands, his body too still and rigid and pained.

"Sephiroth," she cried, her voice strong despite having run so hard. "I think you already know. _Something _within you _has _toknow; why else do you still fight for the baby? Somewhere, you still believe there is hope despite everything that has happened!

"I've always believed that _any_ life, no matter how hard or how painful, is worth living if they can but taste of this world, to feel even one glimpse of human joy and love. I know of two children that have lives such horrific lives, but would retreat back to that life for an eternity for you to hold them just once.

"Their names are Nadiya and Aidan, Sephiroth, and they are _your_ children."

Sephiroth rose to his feet, Masamune in his hand, his eyes wild with anger, rage fueled by unspeakable agony.

"You don't believe me," she continued strongly, undaunted. "But I can only pray that you will believe my mother."

Vivian threw the manila envelope from Miranda's attic at Sephiroth's feet, the breeze catching the corner and turning it so the handprint painted in blood was upward as it hit the ground.

"My mother was Melya Calvin, the woman who delivered your children. This is the last thing I have of her.

"When you wake me tomorrow morning, Sephiroth, we will find Vincent and we will continue onward. At the end of our journey, whenever and wherever that may be, you will not have to go on our word any longer, because they will be right in front of you, _living and whole_."

She took off, leaving Sephiroth with the letter that Vincent had told her might not even be safe. She could disregard that. Without opening the seal, she _knew_ what was in that envelope, and as such, knew without a doubt that it had never been meant for her eyes.

It had always been meant for Sephiroth.

* * *

"_Vincent? Why is it you never pick up your phone? Are you really that busy?"_

"_This is Rufus Shinra, and I hoped to tell you in person, but I have called fifteen times already and am quite tired of listening to your dull answering machine drone on."_

"_You remember Lyn? The girl in the containment unit with Hojo's disease?"_

"_We've found the cure, Vincent. She is alive and recovering. The few touched in addition to her are responding well to the treatment. Soon, Hojo's disease will be useless as we make the antidote available to the public._

"_If you see Sephiroth, would you give him Lyn's thanks along with my own? I do believe it was him that left the tip in my office after he destroyed it. A very clever ploy indeed…one that has just saved hundreds of thousands of lives."_

* * *

A/N: I have a lot to say today. First and most importantly, thank you for the virtual cheeses. They were very exquisite.

Secondly: I do realize that here (and looking back, maybe all of Everglow) Sephy seems a little OOC. I apologize, but it is sort of, kind of, (okay not really) intentional. He's been through a lot and I wanted to show how he reflected the changes. He fell really, really hard in the last book. This isn't the same guy who fought Cloud at the end of AC, if you haven't noticed. That IS intentional, and I'm sorry if it bugs the tar out of you. It won't be forever. I have things to fix that coming up fast.

HOWEVER! This part of him IS canon. See the chapters of Crisis Core if you don't believe me. It's the tip of my iceberg, so to speak.

I am basing this part on something I once heard along the lines of "People don't like to change". (Insert citation here, I take no credit). Cryptic statement? Maybe, but you'll see what I mean very soon.

Thridly: I am an open minded person on all subjects except one. That one subject kind of crept into this chapter...sorry. If you didn't notice it, fine, it's not terribly important, but if you did, I'm not trying to offend you. I respect others' opinions and I trust that you will do the same for mine.

Fourthly: Okay, junk the virtual cheeses. The single most important thing I can say now is _Thank you so much_. I said it a thousand times and I'll say it again; I couldn't do this without your support.

Fifthly: Voting time! But a confession first. Do you know why Sephy had twin children? Because I couldn't decide whether Aralyn and Sephiroth should have a boy or a girl. That and it was just so cute. Now I'm faced with a similar dilemma.

The child Aralyn is pregnant with now will be an important character in both Everglow and the next book, The Marked_. This role can be filled by_ _either a boy or a girl._ So, I'm torn. Vote please! Does Sephiroth need another son or daughter? Speak up or I'm going to give him eighteen-tuplets (nine boys and nine girls) for the heck of it. ;)


	61. The Truth

Everglow - Chapter Sixty-One

_Sephiroth,_

_I know you remember me. If you lived a thousand years I know you never could forget. This is Melya Calvin, your wife's nurse and midwife. I delivered your children. You will recognize my handwriting, my signature, and my seal. You saw them often while Aralyn was in my care. _

_I say this because everything hinges on your belief that __**this is me**__. By the time you read this, I will be dead. I am writing in a cell in Shinra, this paper and pen were my last request. The man who gave them to me will be my executioner. _

_But you __**must **__believe me._

_Sephiroth, I do not profess to be a prophetess or a seer of the future, but my foresight extends far enough for me to plead with you now, after what may well be years, to heed my warning. I pray you will not need this. But something tells me you will._

_I write now, just as I am to die, because I am a coward, because I could not tell you while I was alive. Now I die of shame in my cell, with no one but myself to blame for your suffering._

_Sephiroth, I am going to tell you the truth now, and if it kills me, so be it. It will be more merciful than they will be to me…_

_When Rufus first found out of Aralyn's pregnancy, he became excited to see the furthering of the Jenova project, an analysis of the second generation of the legendary Soldiers. Power untold, it would bring him, he used those very words. _

_So, to unlock the potential in the newborns, he enlisted the help of Professor Hojo._

_You could not hide, Sephiroth. You and your beloved bride never were safe for an instant. Shinra knew from the start. It was a trap. _

_And I was the bait._

_Had it only been my life on the line, I would have refused them despite their…harsh methods of persuasion. Sephiroth, I once told you that I had a daughter. Her name is Vivian. At this time, she was just sixteen, a radiant young girl just flowering into womanhood. They took her. They threatened horrors beyond belief for her, the least of which was death. I could hold myself tall forever, but I could not bring myself to destroy that promise shining in her eyes, I couldn't take her life just as she was beginning to spread her wings…!_

_And so, from the very first time you brought your wife to me, from the second you entrusted her into my care, I was pledged to betray you. _

_At first it was easy; after all, what was just another newborn compared to the life of my daughter? But then I got to know you. I saw the tenderness with which you treated your wife. I saw only a small glimmer of the depth of your bond, not only your connection to your spouse, but to the child—or as we realized, children—you did not even know yet, and it overwhelmed me. To know that you were so protective of her and held her most sacred and above all else, and know that you trusted me was excruciating._

_It was the hardest thing of my life, especially after the birth._

_Your children were beautiful. They were miracles, angels. You know as well as I. Now my grueling job became impossible. I could not rob you of the same bond that I knew so well as a mother. But Hojo knew how to push me._

_I'm sure that with your childhood, it is not hard to imagine what plans Hojo had for your children. He hadn't expected twins any more than we had, but was all the more elated, until he first looked at sweet little Nadiya. He was nothing short of livid to lose a valuable specimen. He pronounced her a failure…a blimp in the Jenova project. In the records, he recorded that her only accomplishments were that she proved that some subjects (most likely females) were prone to frailty and that wings grafted into you could somehow be passed on genetically. Besides that, she was of no use to him. He delivered the lethal injection minutes after her tiny heartbeat began to strengthen and hope was within sight. _

_It was Nadiya or my own Vivian. I have never hated myself more than after I did it. I cried and I rocked her; I mourned the life that she was too young and innocent to know she was losing. _

_And then you came, Sephiroth._

_You begged me for just a few hours as a family. I couldn't refuse you, even though I knew that she would die slowly in your arms, you only able to watch helplessly as your little angel and miracle died. Words cannot describe what I thought of myself, what I still believe about the loathsome monster I am._

_But the miracle of her survival was balanced with an awful fate. To survive such a concentrated poison was surely worth further study to Hojo. She was redeemed in his eyes, and seen as a delicate, but worthy specimen._

_This is where I need you to trust my word. Aidan and Nadiya were never dead. _

_It was the third and perhaps most grievous sin toward you, to give you the false news that your infants had died. It was the final safeguard that would save my own Vivian. You saw your daughter's eyes, Sephiroth. Tell me you wouldn't do anything in the world to save her. That's what I did, that's why I did it, but I will hate myself for what I did to you in the short time until I die and beyond and forevermore._

_You believed me from the moment you heard Aralyn's screams. You knew they were dead. But it was a lie. An awful, unforgivable __**lie**__._

_Hojo took your children, Sephiroth, and with you believing them dead could do what he willed with them with no interference from you. _

_Are you seeing what I am saying, Sephiroth?_

_**Your children are alive.**_

_Maybe being so close to death is making me see clearer, but I know there will come a day when you will find out the truth. If my letter is the thing you receive first, then I pray with everything I am that it will open your eyes. They live, Sephiroth, and they need their parents. You must save them. Hojo will not let them die at any cost, they are far too precious to him…you know that! So I can say without hesitation that even if years have passed, it will not be too late!_

_My time draws near. I will hurry, though there is much more to be said._

_An old friend of mine works as an associate of Hojo's. She owes me a favor. It is by her that you will receive this envelope. Included, as you will notice, are what I hope will be many photographs of your children throughout various stages of their lives. While they will not be candid portraits, merely lab photos used as evidence of their growth and development, I hope they will give you the evidence you need to add proof to my word, for it is worth less than nothing. _

_I have instructed her to take additional photographs of the experiments, not to cause you more pain, but as a record and testament. I have sealed them in a separate pouch. I do not wish for you to see these, but if it is what you need to believe me, so be it._

_I have left nothing out. I have extensive records of their DNA, finger and foot prints, retina scans, recordings of height and weight updated weekly. Nadiya left me a few stray feathers when she molted for the first time in my hands; I have included these darker, softer infant feathers as well as some of the whiter, more majestic ones that she began to grow in with the loss of her first ones._

_The blood on the back is mine. Test the DNA, if you doubt me still, I believe my records should still be in the Shinra database. _

_I do not ask for forgiveness, Sephiroth. I do not expect my words to even be tolerated. I imagine our places being switched and cannot begin to fathom the depth of hurt I have caused. But I plead, not for me, but for Nadiya and Aidan, that you can find it in your heart to believe me, even after all that I have done._

_For whatever it is worth, I am truly and infinitely sorry for the pain I have caused you all, for the family I have torn. To Aralyn, who was robbed of her firstborns just as she tasted the sweetness of motherhood, and to you, who lost the opportunity to be a father…_

_But most of all, to Nadiya and Aidan, for the horrific, torturous lives I condemned them to._

_With all that I have done wrong, maybe this letter will be the only thing right._

_And so I leave Gaia forever. They are calling me. I am finished. My last legacy is one of weakness and of a traitor. And so I go into the beyond._

_If you see my Vivian, tell her that I loved her more than life itself._

_And save Nadiya and Aidan, because I was too weak to._

_--Melya Calvin_

* * *

A/N: Still taking votes for the gender of the baby. Speak up or forever hold your peace!


	62. Maelstrom

Everglow - Chapter Sixty-Two

The blizzard was coming in fast, faster than she could pack her belongings.

She couldn't tell what time Vincent had urgently shaken her awake, as the sky was enveloped in rolling, black clouds. Nearby areas, he had said, were entombed in feet of thick, heavy sleet, inches of raw ice hidden precariously at the bottom. By the time it would reach their area, the rage of the storm would only intensify. To consider anything but secure shelter was out of the question.

Vincent had hesitantly admitted that Lucrecia's cave was a half-hour's trek away, and probably their best bet. It would not be without dangers of its own, however. The entire way was up the mountain; a steep and hazardous slope. If they were to have any hope of making it in, they had to move quickly, before sleet made the passage entirely impassable.

There was nowhere else to go. They had to make it in or they would freeze solid. Flakes were beginning to fall, as soft and sweet and innocent as powdered sugar, impossibly white and pure coming from such dark clouds, but they could also see the ravenous maelstrom in the distance.

All the belongings were shoved messily into their respective packs. When it came time for Vivian to sling her pack over her shoulders, she saw her belongings split, and the one thing that she was missing, that had been overlooked in all the chaos, came back to her.

"Vincent, where's Sephiroth?"

The answer was curt and fast in coming. "He's disappeared." He turned away from her to gather a few more bags. "Last I saw him was in the middle of the night, reading something…it seemed…in agony."

_Oh no…_

A thousand questions flashed through her mind. Had it been too much for him to bear? Had he just up and left at midnight with no supplies? Especially with such a violent storm on its way!

"Sephiroth can care for himself. I suspect he will have taken shelter by now, if your letter left him with even a fraction of sense." He looked at her, almost accusingly, saying without words what a foolish idea it had been to toy with his emotions at such a vital point in time. "We'll find him when it passes. We have to leave him behind."

As Vivian could not find the words to form a complaint, she grimly took her share of the burden and began to walk.

The near instantaneous vanishing of visibility left Vivian breathless. In front of her were only whirling silvers and whites, dancing beautifully, whispering and roaring in her ears as she clutched Vincent's hand, her only guidance in the endless gray. Every deep breath she took was heavy air, sharp with the biting cold, so thick and yet never enough to satisfy her body.

Neither of them turned behind them to see the black wall approaching faster than they could plod through the heavy snow.

Vincent was more suited to the terrain than she, and acted not only as her guide, but her driving force. He was always pulling her one way or another; up, when she stumbled; forward, when she faltered; and to either side when an obstacle she couldn't see was in her path. He moved his feet deftly, skillfully leaving deep trails where he had swept the snow aside, leaving a path for Vivian to follow in. In a flash of panic, she envisioned for one second her fate if she lost grip of Vincent's strong, able arm. Desperately, she gripped him with both her hands, one around his wrist and the other clutching his forearm.

The only reassurance she needed was his unfaltering progress forward.

And then, in an instant of instability, a flash of pain, and a rush of cold, she was on her back. A patch of ice, not even the size of her heel, had lain hidden under the innocent white.

She lost contact with Vincent's guiding hand for several seconds. Her first reaction, before she even felt the pain in her ankle, was a cry of fright. In that split-moment, she knew all was lost. Sephiroth would be enveloped by the storm, Vincent would die alone in this white wilderness, and Nadiya and Aidan…

But he was above her before she could breathe in again from her first cry. His hands were wrapped around her shoulders, his body shielding hers from the biting winds.

"Can you stand?" he mouthed, his quiet voice swallowed by the roar of the winds.

Vivian took a deep breath of sharp air and pulled herself to her elbows. She held her breath and prepared to put weight on her throbbing ankle, holding to Vincent for support.

But his hands pushed her back down. "No," he mouthed when she looked at him questioningly. "No…stay."

* * *

Vincent doubted that her ankle was that serious, and he would bet they could continue on, but that wasn't the issue. The problem that had existed from the beginning, the one he could no longer deny, was that even sprinting, they couldn't outrun this storm.

He watched as the light of understanding came to Vivian's eyes. Her emerald eyes were wide, and filling with tears. They had to act fast, or it would be over.

"Go," she yelled over the winds. "Find…the children. You have to! For me!"

"I'm not leaving you!"

He had spoken louder than she, but a gale had burst from nowhere, stealing the sound of his voice and sending lances of ice crystals at the pair. Vincent hunched over Vivian, covering as much of her as he could with his body and his cloak. Pricks of cold penetrated his clothing, but they were the lesser problem.

"Do you trust me, Vivian?"

Without hesitation, she nodded her head.

"Then hold on to me." In case she hadn't heard, he took her arms and encircled them around his neck. He took her chin and raised her eyes to his. Slowly, deliberately, he mouthed, "Do not let go, no matter what happens."

She tightened her grip, not needing words to convey her meaning. She was with him to the end. The trust she put in him was startling, especially if she knew what he was about to do.

Vincent stood and closed his eyes. He put his hands to his sides, trying to relax every muscle in his body. Slowly, he completely surrendered control of his being. It wasn't long before the demon that lay sleeping and dormant within him rose to the invitation.

Vivian did not let go, even as crimson wisps began to cloak them, as his entire body morphed into a new shape. The embodiment of Chaos began to be the one embracing her, not Vincent.

Chaos could fly through near anything at speeds that they could desperately use. It was their last hope, their only chance.

But his grip on his mind, so firm at first, was slipping away ever so slowly, increasing in rate as Chaos saw fresh, vulnerable prey right in his hands.

Vivian's eyes didn't leave his, not for one moment, even as Chaos gripped her too hard with a claw, she let out only a small, weak whimper.

"Vincent…"

_I trust you._

The last of his control slipped.

_**Don't you dare!**_ Vincent's spirit screamed.

But the demon would not hear him.

* * *

Chaos looked down at the thin human that was so conveniently located right in his arms, though a hunt and a fight would have been acceptable too. The demon smiled maliciously, fangs bared. Her look of terror was too delicious, just like her blood would be.

"Vincent's not here right now," Chaos leaned down to hiss in her ear. "But he can hear you," Chaos whispered slowly, accenting each word, "every single scream."

Why was she still silent? He could feel her shaking beneath the many layers she wore to ward off the cold, but there was something more in her eyes, the way she still held herself tall, biting her lip in nervous defiance.

A new scent filled the air, reeking of Jenova, though it wasn't Sephiroth. It was more…acrid. More bold.

_Kadaj_, Chaos growled with distaste.

Something warm and soft slid over his claws. Chaos's head snapped back to his prey, turning his attention to more pleasant matters than the Jenova remnant. Vivian had actually drawn _closer_, and her hands so gently folded over his claws, gentle and tentative.

"Vincent," she breathed.

Quickly, before Chaos could act, she had pressed her warm, living lips against his stone cold ones.

* * *

It was a reckless and stupid thing to do. It was something that worked only in fairy tales. Why then was Vincent regaining control, actually feeling her touch instead of merely witnessing? Why did his hands respond to his urge to pull away? No, they couldn't. He was still captive, but not by Chaos.

For several seconds, it was too quiet. It took him seconds to realize that the sound that was missing, the steady pulse that he was so used to that he didn't notice it until it was gone, was his own heartbeat.

_Survival instincts. She's doing it for survival, that's all…_

He tried not to think about how she held on a little too long for his excuse to be valid.

Now, more than any time in his life, he forced emotion away. He could not, _would_ not respond. As soon as the deed was done, it would be of the past, and it would never be spoken of again.

Blushing, but not from the cold, Vivian boldly looked him in the eyes, not flinching away from the glowing eyes of Chaos. She smiled genuinely. "Fly me, Vincent?"

Vincent needed no further invitation. To keep his mind off how she turned her face into his chest (surely just to avoid the rushing snow from freezing her face), he thought on Chaos's revelation.

Kadaj meant Nadiya and Aidan.

Kadaj also meant trouble.

And he had a feeling that it was all going to unfold in Lucrecia's cave.

* * *

A/N: Kay, couple of items of business.

"People don't like to change." Starting to make more sense? I'll outright and say it in a little bit.

Kay. End of Everglow is estimated to be twelve chapters. Just an estimate, but I'll be within five...ten...twenty chapters? The Marked will follow.

If there is not another chapter up by Monday morning you have permission to silly string and spoon me bad. iously. I have el-hugeo band competition tommorrow and will be gone ALL DAY. However, I recognize that this is a B-A-D place to leave you all. And my fingers are itching to write. Sunday I will write, and you hold me to it.

As always, don't panic. Bad spot I know, but it's all I could manage today.


	63. The Everglow

Everglow - Chapter Sixty-Three

Vincent neatly folded Chaos's wings before their feet hit the floor of the cave, and he released Vivian even sooner. The roar of the storm was deafening; a few more moments and it would have been too late. When Vivian turned back, Vincent was in his normal form. He still hurried forward into the cave, leaving Vivian to run after him. When she had caught up, striding alongside him, he gripped her arm and pushed her behind him.

"Stay back," Vincent warned. "Kadaj is here somewhere."

"Oh…"

They passed through the entrance tunnel without incident thanks to Vivian's flashlight. They could move a lot quicker, as their light was bright and their pathway clear. The opening cavern was reached rapidly.

Vincent was wary, and remained on his feet, his gun loose in its holster, but Vivian couldn't stay standing any longer. She sat down against the earthen wall, breathing deeply.

"Thank you, Vincent."

Vincent turned to her, but didn't say a word. His crimson eyes were intense, but his face, in contrast, showed no emotion.

"For saving me, I mean. And I'm sorry about…well…that."

"You did what you had to do. I cannot fault you for that," was all he said. He turned away, back to her, keeping his vigil and ending the conversation.

Vincent raised his head as the rustle of leather echoed in the cavern. In a flash, his gun was out and pointed, but he slowly lowered it as he further examined the stranger that Vivian couldn't see. "Well met, Sephiroth."

The shadow approached, revealing the silver-haired general when he stepped into Vivian's circle of light.

The envelope Vivian had given him was still in his cloak, the seal opened.

Vincent followed her gaze and silenced her before she could speak with a warning glance.

"Have you seen Kadaj?" Vincent asked.

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. "Not in weeks. Why?"

"Chaos picked up his scent."

Sephiroth shook his head. "Nothing."

Vivian was starting to get hot in her winter gear; the air down here was much warmer. She began to unwrap herself, removing the top three layers of her clothing. When she was down to just a plain shirt, however, she shivered, the cold still not gone from her bones.

"There is a natural hot spring not far from here," Sephiroth suggested. "The water is warm and pure. The steam from standing next to it will be enough to warm you."

Vivian couldn't imagine anything that sounded more pleasant right then, but she knew she couldn't. Not if Kadaj was around. He could easily ambush her through such heavy mist.

"I just need to get up and move around a bit, thank you." She pulled one of her thicker sweaters back over her shoulders, just until she warmed a little.

Vivian pulled her backpack to her and dug around inside for food, more out of the need for a distraction than out of actual hunger. She pulled out simple sandwiches wrapped in plastic, slightly bent out of their clean shapes by the items that had rested on top of them. Shrugging sheepishly, she offered them to the two men. Sephiroth accepted with soft thanks, but Vincent declined.

"Have you heard anything from Aralyn?" Vivian asked Sephiroth.

"Not in days."

Vivian was sorry she asked. "Well, that could be a good thing," she amended quickly.

The corner of Sephiroth's lips turned downward. "It could be," he agreed almost silently.

"There's not much we can do now," Vincent added darkly, "except wait out the storm."

Vivian wondered if that was meant to be a comfort to Sephiroth.

It was going to be a long, tense wait.

* * *

It took Vincent only a few minutes to disappear again. Vivian knew where he had gone, and she did not pursue him.

To avoid confusing emotions, she tried not thinking about the matter at all. He had chosen Lucrecia. End of story…

She was grateful for Sephiroth's presence. His back was always to her, one hand on the hilt of his Masamune as it rested across his knees, his eyes focused and keen despite the monotony of his watch. He was oddly wary of intruders, his instincts especially set on edge from Chaos's revelation. She could see how much it irked him to have a warning at the edge of his senses, but unable to grasp or comprehend it. His posture waxed and waned in intensity, perhaps unconsciously reacting to the movement of the alarm.

She knew better than to doubt his intuition. That something _was_ out there, she had no doubt. But it didn't worry her for some reason. Maybe because it wasn't made tangible to her as of yet.

He gave her something else to focus on. She tried talking to him often, mostly sticking to trivial and petty things; sometimes he answered, and sometimes he didn't.

"Can I ask you something, Sephiroth?"

"You can ask whatever you want, but I'm not promising you an answer."

That was all the permission she needed. "What is the Everglow?"

"Ah…" he sighed softly. "You remember details well." He stood, leaning his long sword against the wall of the cavern to free his hands.

He reached one hand gloved in ebony into a pocket on the inside of his jacket, guarded close to his heart. He handled it with ultimate care, using both hands to cradle the small object in his cupped palms. "This is my wife's one key to survival; I do not treat it lightly," he explained. "One petty mistake, and it will all be over."

She wanted to tell him to put it back after that. It wasn't worth the gratification of the answer to a trivial curiosity to have Aralyn's life forfeited. He nodded in approval when he saw her hesitation. It was reassuring for him to know that Vivian would not treat this with levity. "Come closer, I won't let you harm it."

"If you're sure," she murmured, and approached.

Sephiroth was holding what looked to be a long, slender vial across his gloved palms. Veiling the vial from her view was a silk handkerchief, so bright and pure against Sephiroth's black that it was startling to see. The silk was embroidered with golden thread along the edges in flowing script in a beautiful, archaic language. The craftsmanship was stunning, the work flawless.

"It was not easy to get this," Sephiroth stated reverently. Then, more sadly, he continued, "There was much I…_we_… had to sacrifice…"

"But it is done, and through it, my Aralyn will live. That is all that matters." His resolve had returned, the shadow of sadness past and gone. "Take the silk away, and shield your eyes."

Deciding to blindly follow rather than question, she carefully laid her hands on the silk, trying not to think about how dirty they were and the stains they would leave. Just as she pulled her hand back, pulling the silk toward her, she clenched her eyes shut tight.

Light exploded even behind her eyes.

After the initial burst, it still took a long period of time to subside enough for her to be able to open her eyes without sharp pain. Even clenched shut, her eyes leaked tears from the light's assault after hours in the dark depths of the earth. Quickly, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and focused on the vial in Sephiroth's palms.

That it was a liquid was apparent, but what an odd phenomena it was. Every muted color of the rainbow was present, each as if it were a different substance. They never blended their colors into one, and existed separately, but still swirling and dancing around each other of their own accord like a living, breathing thing. The pulsing glow from the liquid was enough to seemingly turn Sephiroth's ebony gloves a gray. From lightened crimson to the softest lavender, they moved in tandem and yet individually, creating a breathtaking visual sonata.

"I see why they call it the Everglow," Vivian said, still in wonder at the ethereal liquid.

"The silk keeps it hidden," he said. "It might look a little odd if I were glowing iridescently everywhere I went. You can veil it now."

Taking one last look, resolving to engrave every last shimmer in her memory, she did as he bid her.

"It is a tricky substance to handle. Without the vial, it would have lost its potency and even turned into its own antithesis. To transport it here, the vial was a necessary commodity, but it is also a major dilemma. The crystal is like…molded table salt, held with watered down paste. One mishandling, no matter how slight, and it will shatter, taking my wife's last hope at life with it."

"Wow," she breathed. "Not a light issue, then?"

"No," he said in reply. "This is the key to more than one life."

* * *

Sephiroth's phone rang at one in the morning. He was awake keeping watch, but Vivian, who had fallen asleep, was jolted awake. Ignoring her, (she could take care of herself) he answered the call quickly, knowing who it was without even looking at the caller ID.

"Aralyn," he said quickly, worriedly, but still tenderly and lovingly. "What are you doing up?"

"Sephiroth?" she answered. Her voice was choked and hoarse, hoarse from screaming, he was horrified to find. "H-Hojo…h-he…"

"Hojo?" Sephiroth hissed, murderous in a flash. "What did he do? I swear I'll…"

"N-No! You…he didn't…I mean, I'm not hurt…not y-y-yet…" She broke down on the other end, sobbing.

"_What happened?_" he nearly roared, not at her, but rather at Hojo.

"Hojo knows…he knows about our baby…and he's taking me…somewhere strange…to… he says he's going to…" she couldn't finish, she was so distraught.

She didn't have to say anything more for Sephiroth to know what was happening.

* * *

A/N: I realize that I am late...and I only have three small words.

I'M SO SORRY!! (gets on hands and knees and grovels)

Lucrecia moment...ugh.

I blame homework, my knee which decided to combust...or asplode, as I better like to call it, and marching band. Ever marching band. Now, always, and forever...at least until November first.

This weekend is one of two weekends off I get until the end of the season. I _hope_ to write. I _want_ to write. You can...(insert something awful here) me if I don't. But you can't kill me, I'm the only one who knows the ending of the story. :3

And...I still have to put up the summary of Broken Wings. Yeah. I'll get to that...

OH! Cuteness! Kay, go on youtube or something and look up "Walking in the Air" by Celtic Woman. I thought of Sephy and Nadiya on her first flight together, like a father-daughter date. It may become a scene. I dunno. (opens head, and springs, cogs, nuts, bolts, and cheese flies out.)

(Also a mellophone)


	64. Recognition

Everglow - Chapter Sixty-Four

Sephiroth hadn't waited a second before he flipped the phone closed and gripped his Masamune. Vivian didn't dare try to stop him from leaving; his aim was set and his deadly purpose written in his eyes. He had heard all he needed to. He was gone, already lost in a vengeful, bloodthirsty rage. He wasn't going to let the storm stop him.

She wanted to get down on her hands and knees and beg him to stay. Nadiya and Aidan might only have been minutes away! Kadaj was bound to spring sooner or later, and then he'd know the truth…

But Sephiroth was far, far beyond reason. The letter wasn't even an issue anymore. It was of no consequence whether he believed her at last, not when he was gone.

Vivian's mind was racing. She tried desperately to string words together, something that was sympathetic to his situation, but persuasive as well. She needed something strong enough to shake him from his rage, but gentle enough to preserve his will and keep him from despair. It was a hard, if not impossible line to draw.

It was harder to think when she was mortified for Aralyn and the baby as well. If she was so shocked, what must Sephiroth be going through? All he had known, all he loved, all that he lived for, was about to be taken from him.

Sephiroth did not say a word of farewell, not even giving her a passing glance, treating her as if she were invisible. The one time she did hesitantly speak his name, he had paid her no heed.

She was left to follow him like an immaterial shadow, her tiny, frightened steps not close to filling his long, purposeful strides. He did not respond when she tripped in the dark, or her progress was hindered by the lack of light, a factor that didn't seem to affect Sephiroth.

The powerful footsteps that echoed in the narrow tunnel got gradually faster, the heavy breathing deeper, panicked. When she fumbled for her light and managed to turn it on, he had broken into a dead sprint, his feet seeming to not even touch the ground. The wall of ice, so thick that the light of day could not be seen through it, that rapidly approached did not slow him; to the contrary, he increased his speed. His Masamune was at his side, both his hands gripping the hilt, and then he raised his sword above his head and with a blow that seemed to rock the earth with raw power, penetrating her bones and stopping her breath, climaxed his charge with a blow that cleaved through the ice that offered no resistance, only a harsh shriek and then the soft chime of falling shards.

His strokes were fast and furious, rattling her and the surrounding earth with their power. One, two, three, four…and he was through, slabs of ice as big as boulders at his feet.

"Aralyn is here."

It was such a soft, dark tone, barely above the sound of a breath, that stopped the warrior lost in rage in his tracks. Vincent had not raised his voice, had not made his presence known, did not even approach Sephiroth, but still had the power to stop his rampage.

Sephiroth lowered his sword, hung his head, and laughed.

"Aralyn is here," he said slowly, mockingly, to hide the hurt and the despair. "And Nadiya and Aidan are alive. There is only so much I can believe, Vincent." His laughing stopped, and he suddenly roared, "You have long ago crossed that line!"

"Listen to reason, Sephiroth," Vincent calmly replied. "Aralyn has to be close. Could your phone have received her call this deep in the earth is she wasn't?"

That silenced Sephiroth, beginning the battle between his blind instinct and his intellect.

"You can't lose your head now. That's what Hojo wants. He knows that your fear and pain will blind you, and you will be weaker than ever. He may not even be planning to be rid of the baby; it is plausible that he said that just to push you over the edge. Think about it from his viewpoint: would he dispose of a new specimen so readily?"

Sephiroth winced at the word "specimen", and nobody missed it, but his sword began to lower. The insanity and the rage were fading from his body, and with its retreat, unveiling the hurt beneath that fueled it all.

His sword fell to the floor with a clatter as he fell against the cavern wall, slumping to the ground, bent over in pain.

As Vivian rushed forward to try to comfort him, Vincent grasped her shoulder. "Leave him be," he said, pulling her back and guiding her back into the dark, away from the brief taste of daylight.

Vivian sent a silent prayer to Sephiroth as she left, but it didn't ever seem to reach him.

* * *

Vincent, predictably, had gone back to Lucrecia. Vivian had tried to turn elsewhere, but he had stopped her. "Kadaj is still at large," he reminded her. "Do not leave my side."

She did not take that literally. When Vincent sat at the edge of the pool that surrounded his entombed love, she stayed back at least twenty feet, within earshot, but not close enough for her to hear the sacred and private whisperings between Vincent and Lucrecia.

She once again dug a sandwich out of her pack and began to nibble simply for the sake of something to do. She couldn't say how long she stayed there, only that it was enough for the soft glow of the mako crystals and the serene silence to make the thought of carefree sleep to become unbearably tempting.

The notion was banished as Sephiroth's shadow began to come into view.

She was on her feet to greet him, but he came to her. He was once again the solemn, composed man that she had learned to become familiar with. "Have you heard anything of Aralyn?" was his first question. She had expected it to be.

Vivian shook her head. "But don't worry," she softly urged. "It hasn't been too long. And then you two will be together again! Or…the three of you, I guess I should say, counting the baby." She smiled kindly at him.

From his eyes she could tell two things. From the tenderness, she could see that he could not wait until he held his love in his arms again.

From the flecks of rage behind it, however, she could tell that Hojo was going to rue the day he was born in punishment for all the he had done. She could almost see the murderous, torturous thoughts fly through his mind. Mercy was a thing of the past; it would not be dealt here.

Sephiroth raised his eyes to see Vincent sitting beside the clear, deep pool. His body tensed, and his breath silently caught. Vivian turned, but saw no reason for the reaction. Vincent was fine, as still and sorrowful as he had ever been, his head lowered and his lips moving in silent words but that was nothing to be alarmed about…

Until she saw where he was _really_ looking.

He had found the pillar of mako crystal rising from the middle of the pool, and, more importantly, the brown haired woman entombed within, her eyes closed in living death, her hands folded over her heart as if to hold it within her breast.

"Who is that woman?" he asked slowly. In his voice was one element that was as clear as day.

Recognition.

* * *

A/N: ...Mommy?


	65. Mother

Everglow - Chapter Sixty-Five

"That's Dr. Crescent," Vivian said after a debate with herself to leave out certain details. If he wouldn't listen to a word about his children, chances were he wouldn't be too keen on hearing about his mother. "Lucrecia Crescent," she added for good measure.

"…I thought so," he barely whispered, eyes still glued to the maiden in the crystal. "In all these years, she hasn't changed."

Vivian thought about telling him that she was entombed while still mostly living, until she found that in this case, Sephiroth meant "changed" as a softer, less direct term for decayed. Sephiroth wasn't stupid; he probably could have seen the entombed part for himself. The preserved part, however, might have been news.

"Did you know her?" An obvious question, but one that kept the silence away nonetheless.

"…When I was a child," he replied slowly, digging through dangerous territory; his own childhood memories, "I only saw her at a distance. Hojo went to great lengths to keep us apart because she had such a soft spot for me. I never…talked to her, never even heard her voice. All I remember was one day she was gone, everyone telling different stories of how she had ended her life.

"Aralyn spent a short while in her care. She said that…"

Whatever the answer was, he did not finish. His eyes widened and his chin raised so he looked more directly into the woman's closed eyes, at her troubled expression. Enlightenment filled his eyes like a wave of light, ebbing away at old thoughts and revealing something new. Sephiroth's face was drawn, lines of concentration creasing his flawless face. "Perhaps," he mused to himself, "Hojo kept us apart because of…something _more_…"

Still lost in thought, he began to glide forward in small but very deliberate steps. Every moment closer added another memory, another point to the line, to add direction which would ultimately point to the truth. In small but perceivable parts, Vivian watched as understanding flooded his being.

"How could I have not seen it before?"

From where he sat before Lucrecia, Vincent turned his head, jolted from his conversation by the soft rustle of weathered leather at Sephiroth's approach. His eyes flew to Vivian, to Sephiroth, and then back again. It wasn't long before he, too, was on his feet, understanding. Vincent glided to the side, stepping out of Sephiroth's way, exposing a clear path to the woman in crystal.

Now inches away from the wall of crystal, he raised his hands and pressed the fingertips slowly forward.

Vincent couldn't believe his eyes as Sephiroth's hand pressed through the crystal as easily as if it were water, the blue-green rock only rippling softly in protest, and then falling still. With no effort at all, Sephiroth's hands were in to the wrists, hands outstretched and ready to receive her.

Sephiroth continued to inch forward and upward, his hands sinking deeper and deeper until at last, his fingers entwined with hers, pulling them down so they lay at her side instead of over her heart. Satisfied that with his assistance she could be moved, he immersed his arms almost to his shoulders to encircle the woman in a strong embrace, and then stepped back, drawing her body from her tomb, the crystal yielding up its captive willingly.

Everyone heard the breath of life that filled the woman's long dormant lungs. Her back arched as she instinctively drew in all the air she could get. Her head fell back, opening her throat, deepening her gasps.

Sephiroth was on his knees, Lucrecia still held close to him, well supported. One hand was behind her neck, supporting her head as if she were a newborn, making sure she could breathe, but not fall too far back. The other held her under her knees, so that she could lie draped between his arms, her legs dangling limply from where he held them.

"Dr. Crescent," Sephiroth urged. "Are you all right?"

Lucrecia couldn't reply for a long time, her strength spent on adjusting to life again. She breathed deeply, her limbs trembling from disuse, color only now seeping back into her face.

Vincent was so in shock that his emotions were left unguarded and unchecked. His form was rigid, frozen in place, deathly still. Vivian watched with wide eyes, not daring to believe what Sephiroth had just done. Both held their breath, waiting for something, for _anything_.

"…Yes," she sighed at last. "…I am…I am well enough sir, but I--"

But her words were cut off, because at that moment, Lucrecia had found the strength to open her azure eyes.

* * *

The silence consumed even time. How long they stood there, frozen in body and mind, no one could ever say.

When time did begin again, it was slowly, reluctantly, events moving at the speed of poured molasses.

Lucrecia's eyes were wide, her eyes straying to observe everything about the man who held her. Her exhaling was slow and deep, but her inhaling quick and shallow, the air coming through her lips in sighs.

Carefully, with the assistance of Sephiroth's hands, her eyes never leaving his face, she sat on her own, kneeling before the man. Tentatively, she extended an unsteady hand and placed first her fingertips, then her palm on his pale cheek.

Sephiroth closed his eyes and fought to keep his expression composed, his breathing becoming erratic too as her fingers gently probed him further.

"You…" she breathed, still in a disbelieving trance. She brushed his silver bangs from where they fell across his face, tucking them softly behind his ear. "I…"

They all knew what she was thinking, it was clear in her wet eyes, but they also could see the conflict, how she couldn't grasp it, couldn't accept it. But she couldn't deny it forever, not when Sephiroth was right there.

"My baby," she whispered. "My son." Then louder, she cried as she threw her arms around his neck. "Sephiroth!"

At first he didn't respond, frozen and stunned, rock solid. Lucrecia pulled away in shame. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, mournfully. "You…aren't an infant any more. I just…they never let me hold you, when you were born…I never got to…"

Sephiroth enfolded Lucrecia warmly, embracing her tightly with both his arms and his single wing, his head buried in her shoulder as hers was in his.

Everyone heard him whisper one word softly, lovingly.

"Mother."

* * *

A/N: No, I do not particularly like Lucrecia but well...I feel kinda sorry for the lady, even though she did ask for it. That part where she asks to see her son just once in DoC made me teary.

The great and wonderful Flutist Girl has left you on a non-awful cliff-hanger. I was going to continue but that would have resulted in the worst cliff you have ever seen so I was nice.

I know I'm fraying your nerves, and I'm sorry. Thinking of the problem, I have come up with this comprimise, seeing as from here on out is all action and if you hated the cliffhangers back then...eh...no comparison. You would probably murder me in not-nice and not-quickly-and-mercifully ways.

I am capable of writing in bigger blocks (three of four or five chapters) at a time. The plus is less cliff-hangers. The minus is a drastic increase in update frequency. I'm talking three, four weeks between updates with band. (I'm in the hardest part of the season now, it's going to be rough)

Anyway, you decide. I will comply with the majority vote.

Last votes for the gender of the child? Between you guys and the people I talked to offline the vote is really, _really_ close. Anyone want to tip the scales?

And no second votes. Sorry peoples. I am keeping track.


	66. The Forgotten

Everglow - Chapter Sixty-Six

A lot was said between the mother and her son, but little of it was in words. The feeling in the air was so strong it was almost physically tangible. How long they stayed in each other's arms, begging for forgiveness, crying, pleading, rejoicing and dealing with past hurt all simultaneously and silently no one could say.

Vivian and Vincent felt out of place, like they were violating a sacred moment with their presence, like they didn't belong.

Sephiroth eventually released the smaller woman, but kept her near, setting her in front of him. Lucrecia had been crying freely, and her eyes were red, seeming to need the strong arms of her son, but she finally pulled her hands back to her side after one last tender and motherly kiss on his forehead.

"My son," she whispered again. "I can hardly believe it." Her voice became a pained, mourning moan. "And after all I've done to you—after I abandoned you to your father!—you still embrace me?"

Sephiroth shook his head. "What's done is done," he answered. "You are my mother, and the truth I have sought all my life…that's all that matters to me."

* * *

Vincent watched in numb astonishment, only able to silently witness as the woman he had loved, once entombed in rock, now moved and breathed and spoke. The smile that lit her face and eyes was just as he remembered it. The way she sought her son's hands was also a familiar sensation, the feeling as clear as if it was his hands she was seeking, and not Sephiroth's.

The light was back, that shine in her very being that he hadn't seen since she had fled from him to Hojo. To watch that fire ignite with the mere sight of her son, living, grown into adulthood, had been breathtaking.

This was the Lucrecia he had fallen in love with. The shell that had walked through the halls of Shinra with her unborn child was filled once more with meaning and soul.

Sephiroth looked up to meet Vincent's eyes at one point, holding his gaze for a moment, and then turning back to Lucrecia. "I'm not the only one who's glad to see you, mother."

Lucrecia gasped in a breath, the blood running from her face in horror and shame of what she had done, of seeing the man she had mutated beyond repair, the man in whom she had integrated a monster, no matter if it had been to save his life. Nonetheless, she whipped her head around.

"…Vincent…?" she called hesitantly, afraid. She continued to stare at him pleadingly, immobile, biting her lower lip until a blossom of red began to form.

Vincent, once free being spellbound, took one single step forward.

That step broke the barrier, gave Lucrecia permission to approach. Within a moment, she had leapt forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and dangling for a split second until his arms caught her, her feet off the ground because he was so much taller than she.

In a heartbeat, she swept Vincent into a deep, longing, passionate kiss.

Vincent was stunned into submission, but wasn't so far gone that he didn't see Vivian back away from his side immediately, jumping back so quick that she lost her balance and fell. On her back, she stared at him for the longest time, seeming not to breathe. Her eyes filled with glittering tears agonizingly slow.

When at long length she finally broke, she got to her feet, turned her back, and ran.

She sprinted with all her strength, her rapid, clumsy, heavy footfalls as grave as thunder in Vincent's ears, her head in her hands, a few precious diamond droplets sparsely littering her path, as she fled into the consuming darkness of an unexplored tunnel, not caring where she went as long as it was far, far away.

* * *

Vivian's blind retreat ground to a halt as the ground vanished from beneath her feet. In the darkness she fell down and forward, rolling head over heels, her body controlled by harsh momentum and gravity that scraped her against sharp rocks that speared her and rough ones that skinned away her flesh. She couldn't scream; her breath was gone, drawn from her lungs as she was repeatedly slammed against the cave floor and walls.

When at last she skidded to a halt, she had been on her stomach, her face and arms taking painful, if not serious damage.

While her body was hurting, she should have been able to rise. She tried half-heartedly to get to her feet using her knees, only to fall to the ground again. It was another force that kept her down, trying to press her deeper and deeper into the earth, an overwhelming weight in her chest and a solid barrier in her throat…

So she surrendered to the darkness, sprawled out on her stomach, hidden by the dark, too far away for anyone to hear her, and wept.

She didn't try to muffle her sobs. Who would hear her? Who would care? She let her shoulders heave, she let her tears flow unrestrained, let herself cry into the oblivion around her, releasing all her sorrow until at long last, there would be nothing but an empty shell left for the world to see.

_So this is how it ends…everyone's so happy…_I_ should be happy…_

She tried to imagine how happy Sephiroth would be once he saw his children for the first time since infancy and was reunited with his wife and unborn child. He would have a family. She had no doubt that this would mark a new era in his life, one of healing and peace.

Nadiya and Aidan would have parents that would love them and give them everything they needed, plus a little brother or sister to cherish. With so much death and pain in their lives, it would do them good to welcome a pure, innocent life into their family. A flicker of a smile passed her lips as she imagine sweet little Nadiya holding the baby in a rocking chair, feeding the baby a bottle as she enveloped the infant in her soft wings. She could see Aidan playing peek-a-boo and rolling around on the floor with his new sibling, laughing and smiling, _truly_ smiling.

And now, perhaps one day, Vincent could smile too, something brighter than the wry tilt of his lips he seldom gave. Maybe, one day, he would even laugh.

* * *

A/N: Eh...yeah. Bittersweet chapter. Maybe a little melodramatic. I was manically depressed when I wrote this.

Once again, the cliffie was taken off for your convenience, but I won't be able to do that for too much longer. Things are about to get...eh...(insert doom word here) EXPLOSIVE! I like that one...


	67. Captives

Everglow - Chapter Sixty-Seven

"Well, well," a silken and sweet voice slid out of the darkness, chilling her. "What have we here? Another hostage to add to my little collection?"

Something hard was pressed to the back of her neck, holding her down and eliminating resistance, and a cold hand seized a fistful of her long hair near her scalp and jerked upward violently. A knee, she realized, that was what was pinning her neck, and a relatively small, but very strong hand was pressed on her ribs, restraining her further.

Vivian could feel the hot breath as she was pulled up so her captor's mouth was an inch from her ear. "Go ahead and scream, if you'd like," her captor said lightly, gleefully. "Vincent won't care about _you _now that his other girl is back."

"Kadaj!" she cried, frightened and ashamed. How long had he watched her in her moment of weakness?

Kadaj laughed. "Poor little Vivian," he sighed in mock sympathy. "All alone in the dark, with no one to save you."

He released her, stood, and paced casually, his steps soft as he circled her like a predator hunting its prey. "Foolish little Vivian, to ever think that he could ever love someone like you…"

Despite herself, a choked sob forced itself through her lips.

"Poor foolish, useless, _broken_ little Vivian." He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Such a dangerous game you played, and you lost."

The footsteps paused for a moment. "Or, maybe it's not you. Maybe, it's _him_."

"Don't you dare say…!"

"Just a broken shell," Kadaj continued in a sing-song voice. "An empty, hollow, lifeless, but animated carcass. What did you see in him, hmm? Because I'm pretty sure it wasn't there. There's _nothing_ there!" He laughed giddily. "Just old scars and pain and memories, that's all. No room for anything else, least of all love!"

Vivian bit her lip and lifted her head high, pulling herself to her knees. Kadaj sensed her feeble defiance and laughed. He was back, close to her, hissing in her ear. "What will you do now, hmm?"

"This is his choice," Vivian whispered before she choked on her emotion for a moment. "If that's what he wants…I want him to be happy."

"So you step out of his life?" When she didn't answer, he chuckled. "How very…_noble_ of you." He laughed mockingly, pushing her harshly to the cave floor from the few feet she had risen.

"Well, here's something to cheer up that broken heart!" he said with sickeningly false happiness and excitement. Something rough, some kind of fabric, was pressed over her nose and mouth. The smell made her nose tickle, and suddenly she seemed light-headed, her body beginning to tingle all over.

Suddenly losing all control of her limbs, she fell back right into Kadaj's imprisoning arms. Humming a satisfied approval, he threaded his arms around her and hoisted her up.

"You'll get to see those insufferable brats of Sephiroth's! That is what you wanted all along, isn't it?" He leaned in to whisper one last comment that made Vivian's heart stop. "Maybe, just _maybe,_ with your expertise, you can get them to start _breathing_ again."

* * *

The cavern wasn't silent in this area, nor threatening and ominous. Instead, a sad, lonely voice made the feel not frightening, but sad and mournful. Though soft, with more whisper than tone, some notes rang true, only to be punctuated by a pause, a diminuendo into nothingness, and then a hesitant rise to the melody.

Aralyn couldn't say where she had learned the lullaby, only that the words came natural to her, even though they were in a foreign, haunting, archaic language. She didn't know what she was singing, only intuitively sensed the emotion she needed at that moment.

So, softly, lovingly, but sadly, she rocked back and forth on her heels, cooing the lullaby to her unborn child as her arms protectively encircled her womb.

It shouldn't have surprised her when she awoke one morning and found that her shirt no longer covered four inches of her stomach. It had happened before, in her last pregnancy. Her babies grew fast, as her last children had proved.

It was quite possibly the most horrifying morning in her life.

She thought she'd been hiding quite well, maybe a little pale and unsteady on her feet, but the scientists probably attributed that to the poison. By some small miracle, no one had come in the mornings, when she was too sick to move from her curled position on the ground. She had carefully restrained her diet, though the baby pleaded for more food and Aralyn ached to give her little child what it needed.

But her stomach was a tell-tale sign that she could not hide.

Hojo had taken one look at her, thrown back his head, and laughed with glee.

"This is the best gift you could ever have given me, Aralyn," he cackled. "I'll have to be sure to thank his father as well!"

But it wasn't his gift. It was hers and Sephiroth's, and Hojo would have to kill them both before he could take it from them.

Since then had been a waking nightmare, night blending into day and wakefulness into sleep. She had only one hope, that Sephiroth would come, and one solace, her little baby.

She had been given lots of nutritious foods, all she could ever want and more, with Hojo commanding his assistants to attend to her every whim. He wanted the baby strong and healthy. Aralyn did too, but for a motherly, loving reason. She wanted, above all else, for her baby to be happy. She didn't mind if she was dizzy and tired all the time; if that was what her baby needed to grow then she was all too happy to brave a little discomfort for a short season.

If Hojo got his way, these nine months would be all the love and care the baby would ever have.

Someone had once told her that babies heard their mothers' voices from in the womb. She didn't know if that was true, but it felt good to mother the little infant in her body, give it love and care and always treating it with gentleness.

Sometimes, she was rewarded with a tiny little kick.

That was all she needed to remind herself of what she was fighting for.

"Don't worry, baby," Aralyn cooed lovingly. "Daddy will come soon. We'll protect you. We won't let Hojo ever touch you, I promise."

But the footsteps of her captor were approaching, and the arms that tried to protect her baby would be torn from where they laid over her womb, and she was forced to face the facts: Sephiroth wasn't here, and she was helpless.

* * *

"Fascinating!" Hojo proclaimed. "In one day you've grown six inches! Truly marvelous! Surely worth further examination…"

Aralyn didn't care what he said after that, she knew the gist of it. More needles, more monitors, more pain and experimental drugs. More time under the harsh lights, bolted by metal cuffs to the cold surgical table…

"Hmm…perhaps to preserve the baby, we ought to reduce the dosage of poison, yes?"

"Yes, sir," his associate obediently responded. Aralyn thought his name was Dr. Malv, but she wasn't sure. "Or, perhaps, from the archives…"

"Brilliant!" Hojo exclaimed. "Sephiroth's Jenova cells should protect the baby, but Aralyn's still susceptible. I am a genius! Get the solution, Malv."

"Yes, sir."

Hojo turned to her, straightening his glasses with two bony fingers. "And you, my dear specimen, are overdue for some attention. Don't worry, as soon as we get back to the lab, we'll do lots of catching up. In the mean time," he continued briskly, "is there anything the baby requires?"

"Yes," Aralyn choked. "My baby wants to be free, to be born in Faramir with its family, and to never, _ever_ see the inside of a lab as long as it lives!"

Hojo shook his head. "Fools, all of you. Ah…Dr. Malv! Just in time! See to her poison dosage, will you? I have some other matters to attend to."

"Yes, sir."

Aralyn turned her head to the side as the doctor swabbed the inside of her elbow with alcohol. It was so quick that she had time to decipher only two things: one, the smallest needle she had ever felt was used, and two, it was given swiftly, accurately, mercifully.

"Why are you…?"

Dr. Malv pressed a finger to his lips in a gesture of silence. Quickly, he replaced the thin needle with a much thicker one to fool Hojo, before rapidly wrapping her small wound with soft cloth, then overlaying it with rougher material to hide the feather-light cotton. When all this was done, he slipped a small note in her hand, written in messy, hurried script.

_Sephiroth is here._

* * *

A/N: Who's excited for a family reunion?!

Anybody remember Dr. Malv? He was introduced earlier in Everglow...and now he's back.

Fabulous news, all! So this week is test-mania. I'm going to be blowing my brains out on an AP English exam and a Chinese examination. History too. BUT! Starting Sunday (Friday and Saturday are property of Marching Band and Co.) I get one full week of school off!

Mayhaps I can finish Everglow in that time and continue on into The Marked...?


	68. Friend

Everglow - Chapter Sixty-Eight

An old friend had found his way to Aralyn as she had slept. He had approached soundlessly, so the cave walls could magnify nothing.

She knew the creature by sight alone. She recognized the deep gray fur, the large paws, and the strong, sleek, muscled canine body. Even more than that, however, was the sky blue eyes that were so full of life, full of too much human emotion to truly be animal.

The large wolf was sitting on his haunches, waiting impatiently with his head tilted to the side, his eyes glimmering, and, when the animal was sure she was awake, he happily thumped his powerful tail on the ground in a display of excitement.

"Zack?"

The great dog shook his head and let out a high whine, taking the look of a kicked puppy, acting betrayed by her doubt, but Aralyn knew that if he had been human, he would be smiling and even chuckling a little.

"You haven't changed a bit, Zack."

Zack gave her something that was like a canine version of a grin, and happily padded toward her, his paws as soundless as ever. He looked over her for a moment, seeming at least moderately satisfied with her condition.

Aralyn smiled and reached up to stroke the soft spot between his perked ears, rubbing more than scratching. He seemed to like that, as he closed his eyes and a contented murmur came from the back of his throat; maybe his canine instincts were kicking in.

It was ironic. When he had been alive, he had always ruffled her hair in a display of brotherly approval. Now it was reversed.

When Aralyn withdrew, Zack turned back to her. Tilting his head, but this time in confusion, he began to nudge the blanket off her with his nose and two front paws, entangling himself more than he was accomplishing his task. When at last it was off, a burst of light lit his eyes and he let out an excited yip of pleasure, leaping from her side and bouncing about the room.

Aralyn laughed softly at his energy. "What's got you so happy?"

Zack eventually calmed enough to approach her in a gait that wasn't an elated leap. Becoming contemplative and reverent as he got closer, he softly placed his two front paws on her stomach. His point made clear, he yipped again and ran off into a sprint, chasing his tail in happy little circles to vent the energy.

But Aralyn drained his excitement for him by her mourning expression. Zack stopped, his excited and rapid breathing slowing as his tail lowered. He returned to her side again, this time solemn, ready to be the loyal friend he was simply by lending an ear.

"Hojo," Aralyn said it all in one word.

Zack's eyes turned to flat venom. His ears were suddenly perked in aggression, his muscles tensed as if to spring, his fangs bared as deep snarls escaped his throat. His fur seemed to stand on end, and Aralyn could almost see the murderous thoughts flicker through his mind.

"Will you help me?" she asked. "…_Us_, I mean," she said as she laid a hand over her womb.

Always a faithful friend, Zack didn't even have to nod for Aralyn to know the answer. Aralyn hugged him gratefully until he whined from the excess of emotion.

"Find Sephiroth," she whispered. "I know he's here…somewhere…"

Zack dipped his head to the ground, and immediately began searching for his old general's familiar scent.

But before he left her sight, he stopped, raised his head and met her eyes for a moment, then leapt back. He slipped his nose under her chin and bumped it up repeatedly, gently hammering away until her head no longer drooped. The message was so clear that she could have sworn he had spoken in his human voice.

_Don't give up. Not yet._

* * *

Vivian knew that the warm, feathery little lump curled against her side was Nadiya without opening her eyes, but when she did open them, she met the girl's wide, frightened ones. Without a breath's hesitation, the two embraced.

Nadiya clung to her with all the strength that was in that little body, never wanting to let go, quivering with the fear that she would be taken away again, that she would be alone in the dark. Vivian, though still in shock, rocked the child back and forth, whispering assurances in the girl's ear.

"Nadiya, where is Aidan?"

Nadiya only shook and gasped a little in response, and Vivian decided not to press the matter. Right now, Nadiya needed her the most. All she could do was soothe the child and pray for the best for her brother.

"Are you hurt?" she asked again. Then, in dread horror, "What did he do to you, little one?"

Nadiya nodded yes, her head still burrowed into Vivian's shoulder, so Vivian felt her reply more than she saw it.

Secondary to her fright came the instincts she had been taught since nursing school; she might be able to help, to alleviate the pain a little. "Where did they hurt you?"

Nadiya thought a moment, and finally withdrew her arms from around her neck so she could sign with her hands. She waved her hands all over her body, then stopped, and centered both palms over her heart.

"_Heart hurts,"_ she signed. _"More than body."_ She urgently waved away another offer at an embrace. _"Is Vincent…dead? Did Kadaj's hurts kill him?"_

Vivian had forgotten that the twins' last image of the man was pinned to the ground as he was tortured, screaming in agony. It must have haunted them, and hurt them not knowing whether their friend lived or not.

"Vincent's fine," Vivian hurriedly explained, not wanting them to worry for a second longer. "No more hurt, he's all better."

"_Then why are you crying, Vivian?"_

Vivian took slow, deep breaths, carefully deciding how to reply. "Vincent didn't mean to, but he has hurt me very badly."

"_Heart hurt?"_

"Yes, Nadiya. Heart hurt."

Nadiya became sad too. _"Why?"_

Vivian reached out to pull Nadiya in close, hiding the girl's head in her shoulder so she wouldn't have to see her if her mask faltered, if her voice broke or if she cried. "The woman Vincent loves came back, and he's with her now."

Nadiya raised her head and frowned, confused. _"But Vincent loves __**Vivian**__!"_ she insisted.

"No," Vivian urged quietly. "No, baby. He doesn't love Vivian." She hesitated, composing herself, before continuing. "But don't be sad. Vincent's happy now. You want him to do what will make him happy, right?"

Nadiya thought for a moment. _"Vincent is happy, but Vivian is sad. Why can't you __**both**__ be happy?" _When Vivian couldn't voice a reply, she signed one last thing on the matter.

"_Vincent maybe be happy with other girl, but he'd be __**much**__ happier with Vivian."_

When her opinion did nothing to cheer her, she sought something to cheer her up. Her eyes brightened with her idea, and she skipped away and returned with a silk bag.

"_Look, Vivian! I got pretty rocks! Come see!"_

* * *

A/N: Point of the story: Nadiya is C-U-T-E!

I hope Zack seems...accurate. It's difficult to take his personality and put it into a wolf. A wolf can be spastic (I guess...), but can't really have explosions of emotion or say something stupid that will sound awkward or get him in trouble...

And I hope you do know that I say that with a great deal of affection. Zack rocks. Almost as much as Sephy.

And (gets on hands and knees): Those of you who haven't voted on the gender of the babe, **_we are at a dead tie_** and I am getting DESPERATE! I need to know so I can pick a name.

I may end up taking second votes after a little while...

It's okay. I couldn't decide either. Is anyone opposed to another set of twins?


	69. To Break a Warrior

Everglow - Chapter Sixty-Nine

Vivian and Nadiya enjoyed a few, fleeting moments of peace. For a while, they could almost pretend that they were free, just admiring Nadiya's pretty rocks, without a care other than the glittering stones. Vivian was able to extend Nadiya's respite by easing her into welcome sleep, singing a lullaby and smoothing her silver hair, gently running her fingers through it to get out the burrs and tangles she had accumulated since her imprisonment. When Nadiya's hair was once again smooth as moonlight, the girl had fallen asleep, curled up in Vivian's arms, relaxed and trusting. Vivian smiled and wished her the sweetest of dreams.

But it was not to last.

Vivian's rest ended there. With nothing else to occupy her thoughts, they inevitably wandered to Vincent. She pulled Nadiya closer to her, taking all the comfort she could from the warm, tiny body, but it wasn't enough to begin to fill the heavy hole she felt she had in her chest. It was a hunger, a need, that Nadiya, no matter how hard she tried, could never fill, a chasm that simply couldn't be gapped.

She hoped Lucrecia would be gentle to him. Vincent was like a glass bird with shattered wings; he needed skillful and soft hands to put the shards back together, someone who would be patient enough to reconstruct such a delicate and beautiful work, someone who wouldn't be discouraged when the shards pricked her fingers, even drawing blood. He didn't mean to hurt, but his remarks could bite and sting, the numb coldness of his actions could tear and maim. He didn't mean to. He would _never_ mean to. She hoped Lucrecia knew that.

All the prayers she sent were interrupted by approaching footsteps. She knew the voices that conversed so casually right away; and let out a cry of alarm, holding Nadiya as tight as she dared. Nadiya was startled awake by the pressure, and looked around, confused and disoriented. Vivian didn't let Nadiya find out what was troubling her, and quickly pressed the girl's face into her shoulder, hiding her body behind her wing, whispering comforting words in a frantic, panicked tone into her ear, trying to block out the voice that fast approached.

"Ah…Number Fifty-One! At last!"

Nadiya broke away to look at Vivian, knowing that voice. Nadiya's eyes filled to the brim with tears, threatening to overflow. Her lower lip quivered, pleading with Vivian to tell her it wasn't so. Her face was white and deathly, whatever life and vitality she had recovered sapped in a single instant.

Hojo's cold, cruel hands wrapped around the girl and tore her from Vivian's embrace.

Nadiya burst into silent tears, shaking, her eyes frightened, past horrors dancing through the green pools tainted with such fear. She tried to cover her face with her hands, but Hojo ripped them away. He wasted no time in beginning a crude examination, though she weakly kicked and bit and sobbed, her tiny shoulders heaving.

It was unbearable for Vivian to witness the anguish of the pure little soul as she was delivered back into the hands of her torturer. Nadiya fought on, trying to cocoon herself in her wings, but Hojo pried through those as well. A horrible snap echoed through the cavern, and one of her wings fell limp to the cavern floor, laying at an odd angle to her body. The girl's back arched off the ground and her breathing became wild with pain as she writhed. Hojo took no heed, slapping her until she fell still, submissively allowing his hands to probe her body, though she shivered and convulsed and silently cried and sobbed unceasingly.

Vivian tried to fight back, but Kadaj had turned his attention to her. Before she could scream, she was pinned against the wall, his hands manacling her wrists. She struggled as well, but was held fast, his gleaming eyes that shone with glee from the noises of agony coming from Nadiya's throat and Vivian's useless resistance were mere inches from her face, searing her with cold flame to the very core of her bones.

"Let her go!" Vivian sobbed brokenly. "Please…have mercy! She's just a girl…please! Take me! Do whatever you want to me but _let her go_!"

Her pleas fell on deaf ears, and Kadaj's smirk only widened. "Oh, feeling left out? Don't worry, we'll give you _lots _of attention soon enough. Your time will come."

"Oh, don't wait on me," Hojo said, not taking his eyes of a fresh gash in the girl's pale abdomen, then, unsatisfied, began to tweak the bones in her broken wing, causing spasms of pain to rack the girl. "I may be a while."

Kadaj shrugged. "Fine by me."

Without introduction, a warm cloth was pressed against her mouth and nose. Vivian's eyes widened, and she tried to move her head, but the attempt only dislodged her glasses, sending them falling to the ground below, and as Kadaj stepped back, she heard the soft tinkle of glass shards, and knew that they had broken. She then tried to hold her breath, but Kadaj only sighed impatiently and hit her full force in the stomach, forcing the breath from her lungs, and activating her body's natural response to breathe. Her empty lungs drew in all of the chemical it could in an attempt to get oxygen. Suffocated by the strong, acrid smell, she fell limp against Kadaj, who threw her disgustedly to the ground.

Vivian's unfocused world tilted and spun until blackness took her vision. She tried to rise, to retaliate, but her limbs were stiff, and felt as if they were carved of lead. After a few moments of fighting her own body, she fell to the ground, all of her control seized by the chemical. Her vision was foggy, then black.

"You sure she's still conscious?"

"Quite sure, yes," Hojo replied, after which Nadiya gasped for breath, choking. Hojo took no heed, and probably continued whatever it was he was doing regardless. "She'll hear and feel everything, she just won't be able to respond."

"Her eyes are already milky. It looks like she's dead."

"Yes, it does, doesn't it?" Hojo crooned with pride. "My own creation. Very convincing, no?"

"She's still breathing," Kadaj said and kicked her in the side out of spite. Vivian could not respond, but clearly felt the pain.

"That will stop rapidly, and her heart will slow until it's so indecipherable, not even a monitor could pick it up. In just a few minutes, she'll be as pale and cold as if she was dead for hours!"

"Now all I have to do is make it look convincing," Kadaj confirmed. He chuckled and she felt herself being rolled over into her back. "My favorite part," he crooned in her ear.

His hands took her arm and laid it palm up toward the ceiling. Something numbingly cold was pressed to the inside of her elbow.

_A knife!_

Kadaj lightly drew the razor sharp blade over her flesh, cutting a more or less straight path to her wrist. She felt her skin tear, but did not feel the warm blossom of blood. He did the same twice more, carving slowly, leisurely, until three paths were outlined.

The brutal attack came with no transition from the slow, contemplative gesture of before.

Vivian felt fire lash at her wrists and felt her blood spill freely. The wound was deep, but Kadaj grunted in discontentment. The next wound he made more slowly than the thoughtless slash of before, lacerating her flesh until the tip of the blade touched her bone.

The incisions went on for an eternity. When her right arm felt so webbed she wondered how he had found fresh skin to mar, he moved to the other, beginning again. Some were slow, dragged on forever, while others were as quick as the strike of a whip, and stung with just as much fire.

"There!" Kadaj proclaimed, pleased with his handiwork. "That'll throw Vincent off the edge."

_Vincent? _Vivian thought in confusion. _Oh no…no…NO!_

"We should get out of here," Kadaj suggested. "As much as I'd love to stay and watch these lovers' reunion, we have more pressing matters."

"That sounds logica--what are you doing?" Hojo asked. "Don't clean the knife! Let it drip! The more blood, the better. And put her glasses by her face, it's a nice effect."

"All right," Kadaj conceded. Vivian felt the cold hilt and pommel being placed in her palm, her unresponsive fingers folded around it.

"Aww," Kadaj crooned. "Look! She's crying!" Vivian had been unaware that tears were seeping from her eyes, leaving clear tracks through the dirt and grime on her face. He didn't wipe them away. "Makes it all easier for your precious Vinnie to believe, hmm?"

He laughed. "Could we have staged this any more perfectly?" Kadaj leaned in close to her ear, his warm breath and cold whisper making her spirit tremble. "Enjoy your reunion," he said. "You might just be the last thing he ever see."

They left Vivian to bleed on the floor, appearing as though she was dead, but in reality, hearing and feeling everything.

She could hear Vincent running down the caverns, calling her name.

_Vincent!_ Her spirit cried. _Vincent! Don't believe it! It's a trick! I'm alive! __**I'm alive!**_

* * *

A/N: I'm typing as fast as I can! Please don't shoot me!


	70. Glimpse

Everglow - Chapter Seventy

Vincent was held captive for a long cluster of heavy, pained heartbeats, spellbound, dazed into submission. He tried to breathe, but couldn't get past a heavy weight in his chest.

It was a long time before he regained control of his limp body.

Energy flared through him like fire in his limbs, causing him to pull in a deep breath and lean his head back as though struck. Extending his hands to grapple Lucrecia's shoulders, some feral instinct pushed her away violently.

Hurt became the most dominant sensation for the both of them. Lucrecia sought out his eyes to find crimson whirls of uncertainty, conflicting emotions, shame, and hurt.

"Lucrecia I…" He tried to explain, his eyes wide, shocked at what he had done, at the strength he had exercised. His mouth fell open and shut, but no sound came forth.

Vincent watched as her clear eyes changed. Acceptance and peace washed away the hurt and betrayal. "Go to her," Lucrecia urged, whispering. Then, louder and stronger, "Go to her, Vincent." Lucrecia pressed a flashlight into his gauntleted palm, folding his fingers around it.

Vincent turned his back and ran.

* * *

Kadaj gripped Aidan's wrist and pulled the reluctant boy forward. Something had sparked his resistance; he couldn't say what, but now he was dragging his feet, digging his heels into the ground. It was wearing on Kadaj's already thin patience.

"If I valued my sister, I wouldn't be pushing it, Aidan."

He could feel the seething hatred from the boy, but he began to keep stride. Kadaj smirked and carried on.

A thin, weak cough rang from the cavern in front of them. It seemed to be lit by a single, flickering candle. The person, a woman it seemed, moaned, her breathing heavier than normal. Tali's voice came then, saying soft words and comforting nothings.

"…It's nothing," Aidan heard the unfamiliar woman gasp. "It…it will pass."

"Hojo's a fool to think you could possibly handle a pregnancy and poison…!"

"What if the baby's hurt…?!" The woman's voice rose in panic.

Why was that voice familiar? Aidan strained to remember when he had heard that it before.

"Hush, hush. There's nothing we can do…Andrite, get her water!"

Aidan's concentration was ripped away from the sad, pained woman. Kadaj had gripped him hard and forced him to meet his eyes. "Listen up, kid," he sneered. "You will stay _rooted_ to this spot. If you think you can escape me, you are _wrong. _If you move a hair, I'll make your sister suffer until she begs me to kill her. Got it?"

Aidan lowered his head, but did not give his word. Kadaj didn't press him for an answer; he knew that Aidan would not dare condemn his sister to that fate.

* * *

Kadaj entered where Tali was bent over Aralyn, trying to get the woman to sip clear, cold spring water from a bowl. Her cheeks were gray and ashen, and her hands shook, her skin cold and clammy.

But Tali happened to be in the way of Kadaj's path. Rather than take a single step to the side, Kadaj reached out and grabbed a fistful of Tali's hair, lifting her up and throwing her to the side, all without a glitch in the beat of his steps. He sent a malicious grin at Aralyn, clearly saying "_Your time is almost up"._

Thankfully, duty called him away, and he did not have time to hurt them further.

Tali shook her head to dispel the sparks in her eyes, and went back to Aralyn's side, taking her cold, moist hand.

"Are you okay?" she asked, worry heavy in her eyes.

Tali sighed. "You need to worry more about yourself, Aralyn."

There was a soft shuffle from just outside the entrance. Tali put herself in front of Aralyn, Andrite following suit. "Who's there?" Tali demanded. "Show yourself!"

No reply. The noise had ceased, but Tali still felt a presence.

"I know you're there! Don't make me come for you, it will be much worse!"

Slowly, a pair of glowing, cat eyes peered around the corner. The weak candlelight sent a faint flash of silver from a strand of the stranger's hair.

Aralyn sat up straight, peering intently at the small shadow.

"…Mother…?" a small, timid boy's voice asked.

* * *

"I can't help but hurt him, can I?" Lucrecia said mournfully, a sad, ironic smile on her face. "Everything I try ends up wrong."

Sephiroth didn't say anything.

"Even you, my son," she continued, turning to him. "I would almost feel better if you turned your back on me or attacked me…I deserve it, after all I've done."

Sephiroth hesitated, measuring his words with care. He approached her and put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing softly. "I would be a hypocrite if I could not forgive. You…you were asleep. You didn't see what it was I did."

"I didn't even know you were alive," Lucrecia mourned. "Vincent said…you were dead."

"He did it to protect you. So you wouldn't have to see the monster I had become."

Lucrecia turned her eyes to look at him. "I don't believe it."

Sephiroth shook his head. "Perhaps that is to your benefit."

"No," Lucrecia insisted. She reached up and placed her hands on his temples. "No, let me see. Show me _everything_, my son."

"I won't do that to you!" his eyes flashed dangerously. "You don't know what it is you are asking. You can't comprehend it."

"Sephiroth," she whispered. "My son," she cooed, tenderly, affectionately. "Please, as your mother, let me into your life. Let me help you. Please, my son."

Sephiroth closed his eyes, surrendering at long last.

He kept his eyes closed, but with every time Lucrecia winced, every time she cried out or screamed in horror, every time she shook or sobbed, Sephiroth felt as if another fiery lash split his back. Perhaps she was seeing Nibelheim. Maybe she saw the little girl who had just looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes as his sword arched down and through her tiny heart. Maybe she saw the mother who screamed but clutched her newborn as she was trapped beneath a pillar in her burning home. And then Aerith…and worst of all, his unforgivable sin, how he had not only betrayed his own wife, but tortured out every last iota of physical and emotional suffering and anguish he could from her shattered heart and weakened body.

He ached as he never had before, and trembled with shame and grief to have to show these things to his own mother. Now she would know exactly what vile demon she had given life to.

He wasn't even aware of the droplets that spilled from his clenched eyes.

Before she could witness the latest events of his life, Lucrecia passed clean out, falling to the ground, as her son was too wounded to catch her. Sephiroth wanted to vanish from existence, but was paralyzed.

A faint sound caught his attention. The trembling, the pained cries, the silver flashes of hair, splashes of footsteps in the pond as the small girl sought the cool water to heal her wounds.

"Come back, my dear," a dangerously familiar voice snarled. "We're not finished playing yet."

* * *

At first the path had been clear. The thin, dust-like dirt had kept Vivian's tracks intact. He swallowed hard as he followed, noting indents in the ground where she had fallen to her hands and knees and stumbled back up. Her path Swaved from side to side; she had been too agitated to walk in even a poor semblance of a straight line. Once, he saw a clear outline of her body, where she had fallen on her stomach, and had stayed there for several minutes.

But the ground gave way to become a slab of rock, one that did not hold signs of Vivian's retreat. That, and the fact that from the antechamber he was now in branched off into nine distinct tunnels made tracking her much more difficult.

"Vivian!" he called again, but his call was only echoed back to him.

There wasn't time to check every path, Kadaj was still somewhere, but what other choice did he have? It was better, he thought, to start on the paths closest to the one he was on. He didn't want to think of what he would find if she had fallen off of the ledge.

Every minute weighed heavily on his mind, and the exploration went mind-numbingly slow. From those veins of the cave webbed even smaller tunnels, forming a web as complex as a tree's roots. He worked cautiously, keeping track of where he was at all times, using the antechamber as his reference point.

He found nothing.

Minutes bled into long, fruitless hours. The lack of noise made it all so surreal, as if he were transcending time, frozen in a lonely world where he was the only inhabitant. He couldn't find so much as one living creature, not even an earthworm or other denizen of the world that never saw the sky.

Returning to his starting point, he began to make his way into the seventh tunnel, frustrated with the previous six. His ears ringing with the silence, his nerves frayed, he began his search into the pathway.

His flashlight flickered once, twice, and then died.

He was stunned to a halt. His eyes saw colored dots, as they were not used to the consuming, pressing darkness after having a steady light for so long. When he regained his bearings, which was well before the ghosted lights faded, he shook the flashlight, hitting the end against his palm. His efforts were rewarded with two flickers of weak light before it became apparent that he would get nothing more from the tool.

He cast it to the side. It was just useless weight now.

That leg of his search was by far the longest, though he had only to travel a couple hundred yards. The darkness was a welcome shield that he had learned to value, but it also forced him to go unbearably slow. If he fell over an obstacle and hurt himself, he wouldn't be doing anyone any good, least of all Vivian. Gritting his teeth, he continued steadily onward.

He found that he could measure his surroundings by sound. In the tunnel, they were higher and quicker to echo. He immediately noticed a change as he continued. Instantly, the noises took longer to reply, and were slightly deeper. He was in a wider area.

He stepped in something wet.

He pulled out a small lighter from his pocket, knowing that its fuel was almost depleted but judging that the time to use it would be now. He had judged accurately; he was in one of the domes that dotted the inside of the hill, about fifty feet in diameter. Crystals glimmered and reflected his small light, but there were no chambers outside of the one he had entered in, it was a dead end.

Seeing nothing of note, he prepared to turn and retrace his path when his eyes fell on his shoes.

The liquid appeared to be a deep, almost black maroon from how the light and shadows fell over his boot, but in the light, he saw that on his golden shoe were blotches and rivulets of ruby blood.

Blotches formed a trail to behind a stalagmite, where a single shoe could be seen with part of a pale ankle. He immediately knew the shoe to be Vivian's.

"Vivian…?" he called out.

There was no reply. The only noise in the cavern was his shallow breaths.

_One_ set of breaths.

His. And only his.

* * *

A/N: Believe it or not, I've been working diligently on this since I last posted. This was the single hardest thing I have ever written. EVER.


	71. Burning

Everglow - Chapter Seventy-One

Aralyn did not move for a long, long time. But when she did, her eyes were wet, crystals leaving tracks down her cheeks. "Aidan!" she called, sounding breathless. "My Aidan!"

Aidan forgot Kadaj's threat instantaneously. He _knew_ those tender hands, that sweet, caressing voice that flowed like molten silk, a balm against the scars in his heart and body. It no longer mattered that the woman was too sick to stand, that she shook in pain, that her golden hair was matted and dimmed by dust and dirt and grime, her eyes hazy with fever and worry, and her skin the ashen hue of death.

He knew as sure as he lived who this woman was, and as such, she was the most beautiful woman in this world or any other.

While one part of him was afraid of hurting her, for she looked so delicate and breakable, his heart won out. The part of him that had been deprived of a mother all of his life, who had never known what a mother meant, drove him forward, despite Kadaj's threat. Nothing in the entire world would ever hold him back any more.

From the flash in time when her fingers met his body, her arms reaching to encircle him, he knew that this is what he had longed for all of his life.

Since before he could remember, he had dreamed of this reunion. Those were the nights where he rested in true peace. He remembered waking feeling emotions that were kept at bay in the lab, things like warmth and safety and—though he had dared not even dream the word—love. When he awakened, his heart always felt bigger, and much, much lighter. He felt like he was literally beaming, emitting a light brighter than the ones Hojo used, but so infinitely softer and gentler. He wanted to jump and run and laugh and sing….

In his dreams, his mother had always worn a dress of woven moonbeams and held him in hands covered in the lightest silk. On her head was a tiara of breathtaking workmanship, and her entire body bedecked with glittering jewels brighter than the stars.

Nothing he had ever dreamed began to scrape the magnitude of what he felt now.

Mother was cold, her skin slick with sweat, and her hands were dirty. She wore a hospital gown much like the ones he had worn all his life, and that was wrinkled, twisted about her body, stained with dirt and grime and, to his horror, blood. Instead of a tiara on a cascade of golden hair, she wore plastic laboratory identification tags on her neck and wrists, which reduced her to an experiment number and a blood type letter. The only gem she owned was on her finger, in her wedding band. None of it mattered. A goddess in all her glory would not have been a more welcome sight to Aidan.

He had thought he had felt the climax of emotion after his dreams, but once again, a thousand lifetimes of those fleeting nighttime images and impressions couldn't amount to what he felt now. It was so much, that for the first time in many, many years, he found that tears were spilling from his eyes. He didn't mind. His mother was there to wipe them away. Now, he dared to identify what it was that it felt, putting a title to this astounding power.

_Love_.

"Mama," he choked into her chest. "Mama! Don't let me go! Don't ever leave me again."

"No," she replied, crying too, but too busy tending to his tears to care for her own. "No, oh no, my Aidan. Never. _Never_."

And that was all Aidan needed to hear. Beyond that, he was content to listen to her voice, to lie in his mother's arms and let her stroke his back, kiss his cheeks, and hold him. He laid still, and even closed his eyes. He didn't want to be burdened by sight now; he wanted to remember how this _felt_.

Nadiya used to describe how happy she was by saying that she felt "warm inside". Aidan smiled as he thought of how little justice that phrase did; he was on fire, burning inside, and he had never felt so good.

* * *

They were happy, truly happy for a while, until his mother caught sight of the scars on his arms and ankles from Hojo's experimentation. Aralyn began to cry anew, this time in horror and anguish. "My baby…oh…how did you..? Tell me everything!"

Aidan frowned. He didn't want to spoil this special moment with memories of his childhood. "Mommy, can we talk about this later?"

Aralyn hesitated, but pressed her cheek to his head. "Of course. Later. We have the rest of time together." She kissed his forehead lightly and added, "You're safe now. I'll never let anyone touch you again. No more wounds, Aidan."

Aidan liked that idea.

He stayed cuddled against her for a long time, staying in a blissful state, curled up in his mother's arms. He didn't have to be strong now, he could rest.

"Aidan," Aralyn asked. "I…don't know if you knew, but you weren't an only child."

Aidan snuggled closer, still dazed. "Yeah, I know. Nadi and I are twins."

"My Nadiya lives?"

"Mmhmm." During this news, Aralyn had, in shock, pulled her hand away from Aidan. He took his mother's wrist and positioned it back around him. Aralyn smiled sweetly, lovingly, and tightened her grip once again. Aidan had never had anyone smile at him like that before.

"Where is she, Aidan?"

The thought sent Aidan whirling out of his dazed bliss. "She's with Kadaj, mommy."

Aralyn did not breathe.

"Mommy, we have to go! He'll hurt her so badly! He said he'd cut her wing off and do awful things until she begged for him to kill her!"

Aralyn did not have time to be horrified. "Tali, help me up."

"Lady Dawn," the woman insisted. "You're ill. You shouldn't be up and about…think of the baby!"

"I am," Aralyn said. "I'll not find my family—my _baby's_ family—only to have it torn to pieces again."

Tali winced, but nodded. "Aidan, give me a hand."

Together, they managed to lift Aralyn to her feet. Tali kept her arm threaded around her, as she was closer to Aralyn's height, supporting her, while Aidan held his mother's hand and urged her on.

"We have to find your father," Aralyn said.

Aidan was glad to have another happy reunion to look forward to, but he couldn't get excited. There was still much danger to be braved before they could be a family again.

* * *

Vincent didn't dare to move forward. He was truly and utterly mortified of what he would find behind that pillar.

"Vivian?" he called again, praying for a reply.

Nothing. Not even a breath for a response.

He moved step by step, inches at a time, numbly walking toward his nightmare. His breaths were heavy and painful, his heart throbbing, sweat beading on his face.

The truth was worse than anything he ever could have dreamed, well beyond any nightmare. He had doubtless seen more scenes of worse damage, corpses who had been maimed beyond any semblance of humanity, but never had he seen one whose presence he cherished so mutilated.

It was a feeling far worse than anything he ever could have fathomed.

Vivian's arms were slit repeatedly, some seeming violent and quick while others had been drawn slowly and contemplatively. Some didn't even lacerate the red muscle beneath, but on more, he could see the distinct white of bone. Her skin was as pale as snow, without the redeeming glitter or soft innocence; pale and cold as death. Her face was twisted in anguish, tracks of countless tears sweeping out pale rivulets on her dirty face.

He fell to his knees as his legs gave out, landing stunned at her side. He choked in a breath and tried to remind himself to breathe as he continued his examination despite an overwhelming need to look away and run.

His hands found her forearms, covering some of the wounds, red seeping through his black glove and staining his gold gauntlet. He felt an acidic burn as it touched his skin, perhaps not quite physical, but strong enough mentally for him to gasp in a breath. Her muscles were stiff and cold, rigor mortis had already begun.

Denying everything he saw, he continued on. It wasn't true; it couldn't be.

He threw off his glove and gauntlet and pressed his hands to her chest, seeking a steady throb, however faint, he didn't care.

Stillness.

He pressed harder, pushing until he thought he heard a rib crack, searching deeper. There was only dead oblivion, no sound, no pulse.

He didn't let it register in his mind before he put his face close to hers. He propped her head back, opening her airway, and parted her lips with trembling fingers. He put his ear over her mouth, listening, praying.

There was nothing.

"_No!_" he roared. Again, his hands were on her still heart. With everything he was, he bore down, using all his strength, trying to coax her heart out of its slumber. Ribs cracked like dry twigs beneath his hands; he couldn't care. He would have given anything to hear her scream, to know that she had the life to do so, but as it was, she remained still.

Desperate, he thrust his lips on top of hers and blew all his life's breath into her lungs. Her chest rose weakly, reluctantly, but no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much breath he forced in and out of her body or how many times he demanded her heart to beat, she remained lifeless, a mannequin that only breathed with manual labor. It came on slowly, painfully. It took him so long to realize that she was and would forever be unresponsive.

He was too late.

Vivian was gone.

And the worst blow of all was seeing the bloodied knife still clenched in her pale hand, knowing that it was _he_ who had driven her to take her own life.

Because of him, another woman had killed herself.

It was another death, another innocent life, on his hands.

Not only another life…

_…But one that I loved._

Vincent was burning, flames of grief and rage and helplessness consumed him. He bent nearly in two, feeling a weakness that by far surpassed even the effects Lucrecia's death had wrought on him. He fell over Vivian's lifeless body, her blood staining his hands, his cloak, his side. He wanted to be incinerated, to vanish from existence. He welcomed the flames with the useless hope that they would claim his life as well.

Another fiend besides his emotions leapt on the opportunity to exploit him in his time of weakness.

Chaos seeped in slowly, as if flaunting how easy it was to take control. Vincent surrendered without even a thought of resistance.

Feral roars of agony echoed through the caves, the last sounds ever to tear from Vincent's throat before he was overtaken, resolved never to reemerge, to simply fade from existence by exiling himself to the void within Chaos.

* * *

A/N: I'm just vomiting description today. Ergh. Well...dishing up the drama, I guess.

Things are going to get really tense, (like hair-ripping tense, don't say I didn't warn you) but I think the ending will be very, very satisfying.

Especially what I've got planned for Hojo. (grinns evilly, snickers conspiratorily, and rubs hands together)


	72. The Gatherer

Everglow - Chapter Seventy-Two

Sephiroth didn't know he had the capacity to feel such hatred and rage. His blood boiled with so many memories, nightmares, and emotions that had been bottled up since his birth. His face felt hot, and the edges of his vision were crimson. His heart beat light and rapid, throbbing in his ears. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins, readying his body for combat, setting his eyes on one target and that alone.

_Hojo._

Long had he dreamed of this day of vengeance. It was a useless dream, but one that kept him going when the life had seeped from his Aralyn, leaving her lifeless shell in his arms as she was slowly killed by complications from one of Hojo's experiments. These visions pushed him onward as he found her grave defiled, her body violently jerked from where she might have rested in eternal peace, returning her to a world of captivity and pain. With everything he ever did to Aralyn, every time he caused her even to cringe by his slightest touch, Sephiroth renewed the vow that Hojo would come to rue the day he set eyes on her. Using her as leverage, Hojo forced him to do despicable acts, ones that made his blood run cold, ones that threatened to shatter his humanity yet again. He ran on his rage; it was what fueled him, kept him from sliding down the slippery slope to hopelessness.

Every instinct in his body cried that this was the time.

He would avenge Aralyn at last.

It was Hojo's turn to die.

* * *

Vivian was screaming without sound.

Her lips were still frozen shut, her body still bound, but she had heard everything. She wanted to sit up and throw herself in his arms and reassure him that she was alive.

It was infuriating to hear it all, to witness it through iced over eyes, but be unable to react. She was a truly a helpless bystander in this situation. She felt like a little fish trapped in a huge body of water that was trying to change the direction of a boat above her. She wanted to tear her hair out as soon as she regained control.

Why couldn't he listen? Why wouldn't he see? These questions were unfair to Vincent, but she silently screamed them all the same.

She wouldn't be going anywhere, even when the drug wore off. She could have sworn that every rib in her body was snapped cleanly in two. It had felt very surreal, like popping her knuckles in a dream, but the sensation lingered and, as she slowly shook off her bindings, worsened. As she began to breathe again, the pain became a steady pulse with the rise and fall of her chest. She didn't want to know what the liquid dribbling from between her lips was.

Her situation was looking very, very bleak, and there was nothing she could do but sit and relive the last agonizing hours.

They were the longest hours of her life.

When she got to the point where she could curl some of her toes (at least she thought she could; full feeling hadn't returned yet so she couldn't be sure), she at last heard footsteps.

Two figures, she reasoned through her hazy vision. One was tall and thin, the other slightly shorter.

"Anyone here?" a feminine voice called.

Suspecting the futility of it all but trying all the same, she parted her lips and attempted speech.

"Mmm…ah!...mmhmm….o-over…o-over h-h-here! I-I'mmm heeere!" They didn't sound like words, but at least she got some coherent sounds that vaguely resembled letters. It was a grammar teacher's nightmare, no form, all mush and heavy drawl.

Apparently, however, they got the general idea.

"Yazoo, over here! Quick!"

* * *

_An ethereal figure cloaked in a gown of flowing pearl glided through the cavern, small, dainty bare feet never touching the ground, never a bump or waver in her smooth path. She appeared so very serene, so composed, her presence one of overwhelming power and yet such gentleness. The path she followed seemed so relaxed and natural that one never would have guessed that she strode with such a dire purpose. _

_Her white hands glowed softly, as did all of her skin; her seraphic face, her slender neck, her thin ankles. Hair the hue of the desert sands fell to her waist, glistening as if dusted with powdered diamonds, curled lightly, swaying serenely. _

_But her head was low, her brilliant eyes downcast, and her shoulders sagging with the weight of her burden. She could feel the blood that would soon stain this ground; she could hear the cries and feel the pain as if her own heart was run through with an icy lance. _

_There would be much suffering here. One of her daughters would not survive to see the sunrise. _

_Her work was the work of death. _

_Her daughter was ready for the end. The woman was strong and beautiful, and had lived and loved with all she had. Death would bring her a peace different from what she had known in life, a sweet slumber for only a heartbeat then the beginning of a new, higher existence._

_The only problem was in this goddess-like creature; she was not ready to receive her. But neither would she allow her daughter to suffer. She was ready to take her the moment her time came; she would spirit her away swiftly into the heavens above._

_One fell stroke was the most she would let her daughter suffer. Even that she could ease to some degree._

_She now approached where her daughter was venturing through the cavern. With sad eyes, she watched as she lived her last moments, breathed her final breaths, though she would never know. _

_She turned to look. Of course she couldn't see this ethereal being watching over her, arms outstretched and welcoming, but her hair seemed to stand on end, and she shivered once. "Do not fear me," the being whispered to her daughter. "I will receive you, my daughter."_

_She had to wonder if her daughter guessed her fate. _

_To her infinite relief, she saw no fear._

_The golden creature smiled benevolently. As her last gift before she let her child pass into the heavens, she would exercise but a little of her power to show her the effects of what she done, of the peace she would seal, of the lives she would save._

* * *

A/N: Don't panic yet! Please!

Okay, these chapters are going slow, and I apologize. These chapters need to be done with care; I won't settle for mediocre on these. That and a horrible case of Writer's Block have plummeted my writing rate. I am sorry. E-cookies to all! Thank you for your support, I couldn't pull through this without you!

Next chapter title: A Gathering of Brothers


	73. A Gathering of Brothers

Everglow - Chapter Seventy-Three

Sephiroth could see the chamber where Lucrecia had once slept, the one he thought he heard Hojo and the little footsteps scurry into. The entrance, however, was guarded by Kadaj. The remnants hands were crossed over his chest like a sultry child's, a scowl in his eyes, a sneer on his lips.

No matter how the rage burned in his blood, he couldn't charge through him. They were bound, no matter how much they liked it or not.

"Brother," Sephiroth greeted curtly.

The sneer disappeared, and he looked disgusted, revolted by the idea. "I am no brother of _yours_, Sephiroth!"

Sephiroth hesitated, taken aback somewhat. "Let me pass," he continued, as strong as he had been before. "Let me end this, and then I will clear whatever quarrel you have with me."

Kadaj's smile widened. "No, Sephiroth, I have waited for too long. We end this here and now."

"Stand down, Kadaj!"

Sephiroth didn't turn to look, as his eyes were locked with his remnant's, but felt Yazoo's presence. He felt him approach and stop at his side, his Velvet Nightmare bare in his hands.

Kadaj didn't appear daunted by the fact that it was two versus one. His defiant gaze was only fuelled, his spirit strengthened. "So you're a traitor as well, Yazoo?"

Yazoo lifted his chin, but refused to fall for the bait. "Where is Loz?" he asked simply.

Kadaj remained still for only a moment before he doubled over, clutching his stomach as he laughed manically, his eyes flashing with insanity, which masked any true emotion. Yazoo took a step back, though Sephiroth managed to stand his ground.

Kadaj's smile when he rose to his full height was eerie, not himself, something beyond malicious. "Loz is dead, Yazoo!" he chirped happily. He threw his hands down so they dangled at his side. "Would you like to hear how? Do you want my story, _brothers_?" he said mockingly.

Unsettled, they did not respond.

"Or," Kadaj acted as if he'd had a brilliant afterthought, "should _Yazoo_ tell you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Yazoo insisted.

"Oh, I think you do."

Sephiroth drew his Masamune. "Enough! If it is a fight you are looking for, then on your ready!"

"A fight?" Kadaj asked incredulously. "Against _you_? Why, that's simply ludicrous!"

Sephiroth sat in silence for a moment, trying to gauge where Kadaj was headed. It was difficult; he gave no emotions to consider except levity and jolliness. What was behind it? What did he really want?

Yazoo hesitated; his blank face was on. Sephiroth knew by that alone that Kadaj had struck a chord.

"Fine," Kadaj said, throwing his hands up as if disappointed. "If Yazoo wants to be a spoil-sport, _I'll_ tell it.

"Once upon a time, Mother came to this planet…"

"Do not try that with me," Sephiroth warned vehemently. "She was not our mother. If you seek our mother, look in the chamber behind you, at the foot of the crystal on the island."

"Lucrecia? Merely a vessel! She carried Mother's child and that was that. She's quite useless beyond that…perhaps I will dispose of her later. But I digress! You know the story, you've felt her power and intelligence…wasted! Thwarted by these pests that now rule this planet, Mother's by right!

"But Mother had a son, and how she _loved_ him." Sephiroth refused to fall, but was getting increasingly uneasy. Kadaj smirked and continued mock-lovingly. "She gave him all her power, raised him to be a great warrior…the best that has ever lived!...and kept him close to her heart. In return, she asked only for her son to exercise a portion of her power, to take back what was hers, and she would let him rule alongside her!"

"And what did you do to repay her, Sephiroth?"

Sephiroth scoffed. "What should have been done the moment she fell on this planet. I destroyed her, and it is the only death I have ever delivered that I feel no remorse for."

"See?" Kadaj spat, angry now, near livid. "A _traitor_ through and through! Everything could have been yours and you gave it up for _what_? A stupid, pathetic, worthless _girl_!"

He could take anything; anything except that. "If you speak of Aralyn in that way again," Sephiroth warned. "It will be the last thing you ever say."

Kadaj's lips moved back, reminding Sephiroth of a wolf baring his fangs. "Oh, my _sincere_ apologies."

"What does any of this have to do with _your_ betrayal, Kadaj?" Yazoo finally shot back. "I know why you sought Aralyn's life before; it was because you were jealous of Sephiroth and how he was so beloved of mo—of Jenova," he hastily corrected. "You wanted it for yourself. That's why you sided with Verian, why you revealed Aralyn and Sephiroth's relationship to Avalanche. You wanted them both to be eliminated so you could take it all!"

"I had Mother's approval to remove Aralyn," Kadaj insisted. "She didn't like her either, and Sephiroth was too stubborn to listen to sense!"

"If she had known you plotted against Sephiroth you wouldn't be alive now! She would have disowned you from the shame your brought her, did you ever think of _that_?"

Kadaj paled, his voice weaker. That had thrown him off balance. "Mother would have chosen me to be her beloved. I would have done whatever she wanted. I would make her happy! _I_ _wouldn't have torn her to bits!!_"

"So you fight for revenge for what I did to Jenova?" Sephiroth asked. "Is that what you're saying?"

Kadaj frowned. "Yes," his face relaxed then, and he began to chuckle. "But that isn't all I'm fighting for."

"What then---?"

"Survival," Yazoo said in a mere whisper. Sephiroth turned to him again, not sure he had heard right. "He's fighting to save himself, or at least avenge his impending death."

Kadaj clapped long and loudly. "Good job! Now do you see all the pieces, Yazoo?"

His eyes flashed, but he didn't deny it.

"You were human-born," Kadaj continued, addressing Sephiroth. "You came from that filthy creature; only Jenova's cells could redeem you from that awful taint. But, disgusting as it might be, it has saved you. We remnants, however, lived solely on Jenova's power. Now that she is gone, what is keeping us alive? _Nothing! _Loz has already fallen, and Yazoo has felt it as well! Within the week, you will be _dead_ Yazoo, maybe sooner if you're lucky…you won't have to suffer as long!"

Yazoo looked forward passively, not letting anything Kadaj said register in his mind, but Sephiroth saw shadows of pain in his eyes, and knew that Kadaj spoke the truth.

"It took Loz a month to die. You think that was a happy month? That's what awaits you, Yazoo…first your soul will be torn asunder, and then your body will wither away! And yet you side with the man who killed our Mother and by doing so, has killed _you_!"

"Yes." If it had been Kadaj's aim to turn Yazoo to his side, he had failed. Nothing that was said had taken effect. "Until I die, I fight with Sephiroth."

That stung Kadaj deeply, so deeply that the youngest remnant couldn't hide it. In retaliation, he said, "I couldn't even persuade you if I told you that I might go for Vega's pretty neck?"

Blood rushed from his face, but he did not falter. "She would rather die than serve you…but that is beside the point. You will not be touching her."

"Oh, we will see…" Kadaj said, defeated, but still smug. With more fury than either had ever seen from him, he left one last threat.

"You both will pay for your treachery, more than you can ever fathom! Come, look, Sephiroth! Follow me and see what little surprise Hojo and I have been keeping for you these last few months!"

Kadaj rushed forward into Lucrecia's chamber, Sephiroth and Yazoo on his heels.

Yazoo was surprised when Sephiroth stopped, frozen solid in mid-stride. Yazoo didn't think he was even breathing. Sephiroth's legs gave out in shock, and he fell to his knees, his eyes still focused to a point in the distance.

"What are you doing? He's getting away…!"

But Yazoo trailed off, following his commander's gaze.

At the far end of the pool of water, Hojo held two things: one, a scalpel seeped in some kind of glowing substance, and at his feet, a beautiful, seraphic little girl with angel's wings and long, silver hair, tears flowing freely from emerald cat's eyes as she shook and quivered in fright. One perfect wing was at an odd angle, and red spilled from the pure white feathers.

Yazoo heard one word escape Sephiroth's lips in a breathy whisper.

"…Nadiya?"

* * *

A/N: Kadaj is getting loooOOOoooOOOoooOOOpy....not sure if I portrayed it quite right. I am insane, yet can't write about it. Hmmm...

I will type with as much fastness as I can muster!


	74. The Fuse

Everglow - Chapter Seventy-Four

"How nice to see you, Sephiroth," Hojo greeted. "I trust you remember your daughter?"

A pair of wide, glimmering emerald eyes peered up at him from beneath a matted veil of silver; _his_ eyes, Sephiroth realized in shock. And Aralyn too…those were her delicate hands, her heart-shaped face, her little nose and ears, her small rebellious curl of hair behind her right ear.

And two large, white, _perfect_ wings extending from her back…

His mouth was dry and he still couldn't breathe. He was frozen, unable to rise from where he had fallen to his knees.

It was impossible.

It was real.

His Nadiya, his little beacon of hope, his little miracle and angel…

His daughter. She was here.

She was alive.

The little girl's eyes lightened, flooding with hope, and Sephiroth knew that she knew him just as he knew her, though it had been nine years since he had held her in his arms. She began to cry anew, but these weren't tears of pain. Her lip quivered, her eyes shone, and she held out her small, scarred little hands. He could understand her clearly. She was coming to him as a wounded child, pleading for a release from the pain, for a strong embrace and loving words.

She was pleading for him to take her back.

She didn't let her gaze roam from his eyes. She began to smile, bright and radiant, though she must have been hurting. Her hands flew in a gesture he recognized.

_"Father! Father!"_

But their reunion was silenced.

Hojo grabbed Nadiya's wounded wing and yanked her back. Her lips opened in a silent scream. The joy was gone from his little angel; now he saw her broken and wounded spirit, how she barely even fought.

And he saw her past.

Carved on her thin ankles were thousands of lines, visible even from the distance he was. He knew that they did not end there.

His heart stopped.

"Look what I've been keeping," Hojo said. "She's a good little pet most of the time; much easier to handle than your _insufferable_ son. She broke easy, but no matter what I do to that boy…"

Fury drove him to his feet. In a flash, Masamune was back in his hand, ready. With a roar, he prepared the blade for contact and charged blindly forward.

Hojo picked up Nadiya by the throat and put her little body in front of his chest, covering his heart with her, shielding himself and guaranteeing she would take more damage than he would.

Momentum would not let him stop, but somehow, he managed to swing to the side and avert the blow. He didn't miss how, before his blade was embedded a foot into the rock of the wall, his blade flashed a breath away from Nadiya's face. A few strands of silver fell like stardust to skim the surface of the pool they stood in.

The trust in Nadiya's eyes did not falter.

"Do not try that again, Sephiroth. I'd hate to lose this specimen…she's been _so_ very good for me."

Sephiroth ripped his blade from the rock and leapt back, still trembling inwardly from the closeness of the blow. He took a moment to compose himself.

"Give me back my daughter," he said quietly, dangerously, a demand that may as well have been roared for all the power in his voice.

Hojo was not affected. "You're all the same. You just can't see the value in what I do, can you? Why, the very poison in your wife right now was developed on her! Fascinating, isn't it?"

Sephiroth was repulsed on many levels and had never been _less_ fascinated in his life.

He knew that Hojo was just goading him on, trying to blind him with rage and hatred, to trick him into doing something foolish. Hojo knew his only weakness, how to use his loved ones' pain to hurt him. He knew how to push him when others could gain no leverage.

The truth was, it was working, and even Sephiroth knew it.

"Sephiroth," Yazoo said softly. "Trust me with your daughter. I will protect her. You end this now."

Sephiroth nodded grimly. "Do not let her see this."

Yazoo nodded and slipped into the shadows. Sephiroth didn't know what he was planning, but gripped his sword tighter in worry. _Be swift,_ he prayed.

He was glad to let another help. Try as he might, these emotions were too strong to suppress. He needed to be clearheaded, but he couldn't suppress the singing in his soul when his perfect daughter looked at him with such love and hope.

He reminded himself that a reunion could come later, when they were all safe. Now was not that time.

_Nadiya…my Nadiya…be strong._

Sephiroth clenched his teeth as he forced himself to move backward when everything in his body was compelling him forward. Nadiya got smaller and smaller, and her eyes betrayed hurt for the first time. To her, it must have looked like he was abandoning her.

That broken look was like a lance to his heart, and he gasped with the severity of the emotion, but still, he pressed gradually away. There would be time enough for amends and healing later.

But neither Yazoo nor Sephiroth had had the time to do any more than that.

"Get. Away. From. My. _Sister!_"

The short silver streak had come from nowhere, the rapid footsteps materializing from somewhere deeper in the caves.

Hojo was not oblivious to this new development and frowned, irritated, dropping Nadiya into the pool to give his attention to this new arrival.

Sephiroth saw what the silver haired boy could not: a loaded gun, ready to fire, behind the madman's back.

"Aidan!" Sephiroth roared, shaking the cavern. "Aidan, get back!"

The figure stopped abruptly, shocked into such a sudden halt that he could not regain his balance. The boy fell over his own feet, rolling head over heels two or three times, landing on his behind, sitting straight, but stunned, unmoving.

In the background, Yazoo stopped, gauging the situation and waiting to see how things played out before continuing.

Once again, Sephiroth was met with a reflection of his own eyes. Before, they had shone with determination, but now they were oddly vacant, dull, and unsure. The boy blinked twice, thrice, before the spark of vitality returned. "Daddy?" the boy asked. "…Dad?"

"Stay back, son!" Sephiroth ordered strongly, coldly, without affection. It hurt him to use the tone he once had used to command troops in the field of battle, but it was all he knew, the only way to make him understand. That his son was not lacking in courage, he was certain. He knew his little boy would fight with everything he possessed, but he was untrained. This was a fight that would endanger him, and the stakes were too real for his level of training.

Aidan was hurt at first, shocked. He had yearned for a loving reunion. Sephiroth had too, but the general bit his lip and begged the fates that he would understand.

Resolve replaced the hurt. Aidan drew himself to his feet and nodded once at his father.

"Hello, number fifty," Hojo greeted. "Nice to see you. I quite look forward to…ah…_working_ with you and your worthless sister again."

Aidan didn't flinch, but his expression hardened and cooled, as strong and unyielding as raw steel. While his face and stance were cold, his eyes flared. His hands clenched and unclenched at his side in a slow, steady rhythm.

Something passed between the two twins in a flicker of thought. After the flash of reassurance from his sister, Aidan drew his feet together and raised his chin proudly.

"Aidan, come back! Don't go so far ahead! It's not safe here!"

Aidan at last turned at the voice of his ailing mother. Tali and Andrite were entering the area with Aralyn supported between them. They stopped as they met Hojo's cold, heartless black eyes.

"Oh, and number forty-six, too. How are we feeling today?"

Aralyn paid no heed to Hojo, but stared transfixed at her daughter. "My Nadiya!" she cried. "Oh, my beautiful baby girl!" Sephiroth could see the longing, how she ached to hold her little baby again, to be a mother at last.

Nadiya stared back, eyes gleaming as well.

Hojo raised the gun and Tali dropped Aralyn, standing in front of her. Andrite's palms were glowing silver, sparking, though he held no materia that Sephiroth could see.

"…Hmm," Hojo crooned, eyes fixed on Andrite's hands. "You outlanders have some _fascinating_ abilities…I do wonder…" He trailed off, cold calculations and hypothesis already forming in him mind.

Yazoo struck.

In a whir of silver, Nadiya was swept up. Reluctant to let his prize go, Hojo fired rapidly at the flowing silver, black, and pale man, not aiming, but by sheer luck, a blossom of red bloomed from the man's forearm. Yazoo did not release a sound, but faltered for a moment, falling to one knee, bowing in half, the unharmed girl rolling from his protective grip.

Sephiroth stepped between Hojo and the fallen Yazoo, batting away the bullets with the edge of his eager Masamune, the tiny steel balls falling, split down the middle, to land harmlessly as maimed hemispheres in the dust.

"Yazoo, are you alright?"

"Just a…scratch. Don't worry…about me." But Sephiroth could hear the strain in his voice, the optimistic lie.

"Nadiya," Sephiroth whispered to the girl behind him. "Run. Hide. Get away from here."

Nadiya didn't move.

"_Now_," Sephiroth hissed, not meaning to be harsh but putting her protection above her feelings for now. Hojo was reloading; the bullets seeming to be barbed this time, nearly invisible hooks covered with some glowing poison. Sephiroth tensed despite himself.

The girl ran as fast as her short legs would carry her.

Another party was fast approaching. Yazoo groaned. "Vega," he whispered. "Please stay out of this…"

But it was becoming increasingly clear that Vega had no such intentions. Even if she was carrying a nearly comatose Vivian on her back, she was going to fight.

Verian and Kadaj melted in from the shadows, standing beside Hojo, Kadaj's double-bladed katana bared and Verian's elaborate spear at the ready. Yazoo rose to his feet beside Sephiroth, his Velvet Nightmare held shakily in his weak hand, as his dominant was injured, freely leaking blood. Vega set Vivian down on the sidelines, her body in front of the wounded nurse's, weapon prepared as well. Tali and Andrite, while on the midline between the two parties, surrounded Aralyn, protecting her, even as they prepared to be offensive as well.

Every player was present. When the spark was lit, the fuse would ignite, the explosion would ensue, and only time would tell who would live and who would die.

* * *

A/N: That took a LOOOONG time to write...sorry.

200 pages. I repeat, I have reached 200 pages. In Everglow alone.

I have begun to write a three-shot like thing, short, but not too short. The topic is Nibelheim in accordance with events from Broken Wings and Everglow...so...basically my interpretation to make it fit my storylines (showing how Aralyn fits in and all that). It will be told by none other than ZACK! (I likey him) I heard a song that just fit too prefectly to be overlooked, so I'm going to try to incorporate the lyrics. Anyway, a little side project when I am in block for Everglow.

I will write! And band season is over, so I should be faster.


	75. Combat

Everglow - Chapter Seventy-Five

Kadaj was the first to move; and they all knew it would be that way. He had always been the one to set his own rules, try to force the other to play on his stage. Everyone readied for the blow, but Yazoo became the recipient.

Sparks flew as Kadaj's blade met Yazoo's gun, and Kadaj was forced back by the power of his own blow and Yazoo's adamant stance. Grimacing at his brother, Kadaj let out a savage yell and charged again.

Verian, keeping his eye on his ally for a moment too soon, was rewarded for his absentmindedness by having his arm slit from a whirring blade. It was something just short of a miracle that his arm had not been severed. Hissing an oath beneath his breath, he followed the path of the red and silver disk back to Vega, who caught the chakram deftly in one hand, silver greaves gleaming in the crystal-light, her face set in a grim challenge. He readied his spear and leapt to meet her midway.

The two parties were separately occupied, weapons whirring and clashing in a whimsical rhythm, feet moving as fast as their heartbeats. Sephiroth moved to protect the now unguarded Vivian, but his eye was solely on Hojo, who stood alone at the now oddly empty end of the cavern.

Sephiroth had waited all his life, he could wait just a little longer; but just enough time to snag the optimal opportunity, and nothing more.

* * *

Yazoo blocked Kadaj and was, as of yet, unharmed, but at a great price. He could feel his energy gradually seeping away, and sudden bursts of fatigue nearly brought him to his knees on a number of occasions. He knew that Kadaj knew this, as his younger brother began to ease up on his attacks, becoming more playful, more confident. Yazoo grit his teeth and continued his persistent assault, batting at Kadaj's blade with the edge if his gun, but he couldn't get far enough away to shoot, which was where he excelled. Swordplay was Kadaj's forte, and while they might have been on equal grounds now, he knew it couldn't last forever.

Yazoo was the first to take their combat to the skies. With a leap, he flew upward and perched on an outcropping of rock about twenty feet above the ground. Kadaj grinned, thrilled by this new element, and followed suit. Positioned on an opposite ledge, Kadaj baited him on. For the first time, Yazoo had the range to shoot, and took the opportunity. Kadaj leapt and twisted out of the way agilely, dodging every shot as his giddy laughter filled the cavern.

When Kadaj tired of this game, he leapt up again, higher this time, until the ground was an insignificant detail. Yazoo fired upward, but Kadaj's laughter did not fade; he had not been successful. At that moment, his vision blacked out, and he wavered. It had only been a second, but it had been ample reminder.

This couldn't go on much longer. He would be rendered incapable in mere moments.

He reloaded his gun with a deft flick of his fingers, and then followed his brother, knowing that he might be leaping to his death.

* * *

Vega had held the advantage from the start, but she didn't dare to get confident. It was too easy; Verian was hiding something.

Vega once again marveled at the strength of his spear as it yet again caused her chakram to rebound. The shaft had appeared to be of wood, but her blades had no effect on the surface of it, even if she grated it downward. The head itself was an ethereal blue-silver, and was not solid, but rather a tip formed of hair-thin strands of the strange metal, twisted around each other and shaped to a lethal point. At the base was a spherical ruby the size of her fist, the purpose quite unknown to her, unless it was to be used as a display of sheer wealth or else as a very fancy bludgeon. At any rate, she didn't let him employ it.

Verian lunged forward, but Vega moved her chakram so the spear went between two golden spokes. They remained deadlocked for a moment, then Vega turned the tides in her favor. She twisted her hand and raised it above her head, Verian's spear still entangled in her weapon. She then flicked it outward, sending his spear feet to the side.

She risked a brief glance upward, toward the ceiling of the cavern that was well beyond her sight. She used to catch glimpses of flying silver out of the corner of her eye, getting smaller and smaller as the warriors gained in altitude, but now they weren't even visible.

She was worried, and didn't try to deny it. Yazoo had been sick lately, something unseen was ailing him. He insisted it was nothing and often continued on without complication, but it was those small, fleeting moments that worried her the most.

What if it cost him the battle…his life?

She glanced over to Sephiroth, who guarded Vivian even as he calculated when it would be best to strike at Hojo. He didn't return her gaze, seeming to avoid her all together. She had the most unsettling feeling that he knew something that she didn't.

She had no more time to consider it; Verian had recovered his weapon and had lunged. A burst of lightning went through his spear, blinding both him and the nearby Vega with the light and deafening them with the violent roar of thunder. The proximity of the bolt washed the pair with searing heat, but while Verian cried out, a shimmering lavender shield enfolded her.

When the light and heat cleared, she saw Andrite and Tali with their palms outstretched, Andrite's sparking with lightning and Tali's glowing the same color as her shield.

Vega readied her chakram, mouthed thanks to the pair, and leapt back into the fray.

* * *

Sephiroth was torn.

Hojo was standing idly, unguarded, gun at his side, but that was no threat to him. It wasn't because he feared Hojo that he was afraid to strike.

It was Aralyn. She was too close to Hojo, too close for him to guarantee that she would not be harmed in the cross-fire, however brief it might be.

He would have implored with Tali to get her out, but they were occupied protecting Vega. Accidentally, they had shifted to form a gap that gave Hojo a straight, near point-blank shot to Aralyn, a pathway that Sephiroth knew he had noticed.

"So, my son," Hojo crooned sickeningly. "What will you do now?"

The pattern of spear against dual chakram became closer, and Sephiroth's senses stood on end, his body charged with the electricity in the air. Andrite had made to strike again, as Verian had approached too close to Aralyn, but the man rolled out of the way of the blast, then deflected Vega's attack; she had heaved both her chakram at him, but neither found its mark.

In the deadlock, Verian gazed at the woman tucked behind Tali and Andrite. Sephiroth's blood boiled as he watched him desecrate her pureness with such a blatant look of lust. She was his prize, and that was all he saw her as.

With his rage kindled, it took everything he had to keep himself in place.

He wanted to jeer as Vega managed to free one chakram and swipe it across his chest. The man screamed as sharp barbs hooked and tore his flesh, leaving seeping lines of crimson that even his hands could not hide. He hoped it caused Verian excruciating pain.

"I had no idea I could push you so far," Hojo continued, not affected by his ally's cries of anguish. "To disregard your beloved so you can seek vengeance on me…ha! I should be flattered!"

Sephiroth wondered what he was talking about for several seconds until the warm weight of the Everglow shifted in his chest pocket inside his coat. Hojo didn't know he had it. He still thought he was the only one with Aralyn's antidote.

"I didn't know I could break your bond so easily. What was it…eighty consecutive hours of interrogation? Such a petty price, I might have done it long ago."

Sephiroth wished he could tell the madman the truth: that the only thing that session had changed was the last seal on his will for vengeance, and if anything, it had strengthened his and Aralyn's bond through the fires of adversity. But he conceded. Let him have this small, supposed victory; it would be his very last.

He didn't miss Aralyn's cry of alarm. They had made her witness the last seven hours; she hadn't known it had gone on straight for days before they dragged her in.

He was oddly calm, even as Aralyn began to cry for him. He knew that was the last scream and the last few tears that Hojo would ever rob from her.

* * *

_Just a little longer, only a moment longer…_

A/N: *brain sparks* Eh...eh...*brain-asplode*

* * *


	76. A Shift in the Tides

Everglow - Chapter Seventy-Six

The silver streaks began to reappear, and the sound of sword blows and gunshots could be heard in increasing volume instead of the echoes they had heard before. Kadaj was forcing Yazoo to the earth.

Everyone knew that this was a dire omen.

The end was near.

As the silver-haired pair danced above them in the air, droplets of red fell like rain, landing in the pond to spread and dilute, marring the pure clarity and smooth surface with crimson ripples. Kadaj's breathing was light and easy, and he taunted his brother, laughed and jeered. Yazoo, when his erratic breaths could be heard, drew in pained gasps and breathed out moans.

On a ledge not fifteen feet above the heads of the other contesters, Yazoo was forced to his back, and with one swipe of Kadaj's katana, the Velvet Nightmare fell to the ground to land in the middle of the battlefield with a clatter. Weaponless and wounded, Yazoo could do nothing but lie back in defeat against the ground, closing his eyes as he waited for the stroke Kadaj was preparing, the one that would either pierce his heart or lacerate his throat.

"Yazoo!" Vega screamed in alarm. Helpless, she turned to Sephiroth, who too witnessed in grave horror. "_Do something!"_ she screamed, ordering and pleading simultaneously, her voice breaking.

Verian, his opponent so distracted, leapt upon this opportunity.

Andrite leapt in Vega's defense. The air sang with electricity again as Andrite unleashed another lethal bolt, but this time, instead of hitting Verian, the man managed to deflect it back to its caster with a twist of his spear. The lightning was flung back faster than thought, but Tali's instincts were quicker. She raised her shield with one hand and with the other, flung Andrite aside. The boy hit his head against the cavern wall and fell still.

Her intuition was true, but her shield could not withstand such power.

Tali's shield flickered once, twice, enough time for her face to draw into an expression of horror as she realized the inevitable. Shock was replaced with pain in a heartbeat. Tali's scream was one of death as she crumpled, her body absorbing the vast majority of the blow.

Verian abandoned Vega, leaving the woman to watch Kadaj's katana poise above her husband's heart, not daring to hope even as Sephiroth flew quickly, but not quickly enough, to his remnant's aid. Verian held his spear parallel to the cave floor and ran forward as fast as he could, tip positioned to skewer the unconscious Tali's heart.

_Daughter,_ a voice breathed, so soft, but unmistakable to everyone in the room. _It is your time._

Two lethal weapons reached their mark at the same point in time.

The tip of Kadaj's katana had barely breached flesh when Sephiroth's blade swept it aside, forcing it to the side instead of downward. The result was a shallow, horizontal wound about five inches long on Yazoo's chest that bled lazily. Before Kadaj could gather himself, Sephiroth unleashed a volley of blows, forcing him back, off the ledge, to the ground below. After Kadaj had fallen, Sephiroth gracefully leapt from the ledge, landing deftly, and then the battle continued with the same intensity as before without a beat of dead time.

No such blade was ready to save Tali.

Her eyes, a soft, rich almond brown, opened as she was pierced, wide with pain and surprise. A moment of silence passed in which the battles ceased and no one breathed.

Tali's expression softened infinitely, her eyes taking on a dreamy pallor. She swooned to one side, perhaps only held erect from the spear embedded deep within her. Her eyes scanned slowly across the room, and she smiled, brightly, though tiredly, at her friends. Afterward, her silent farewells said, she turned to address her enemies.

"Hojo," she began in a voice clear and strong. "You will pay infinitely for all you have done. You will taste of the horrors you freely dispersed before you truly die." She turned again, looking at the man whose katana was slathered with Yazoo's lifeblood. "Kadaj, despicable remnant, for your treachery you will die in vain and utterly alone, without that which you seek."

Blood dripped from her lips, but she turned last of all to Verian, the one who gripped the spear that would claim her life.

"Lord Verian of Bellarieve…"

Here she paused, and they feared that she would not have the strength to continue.

"I curse you with this," she whispered defiantly, her head held high and her eyes strong and vibrant. "Lady Dawn will _never_ be yours."

Verian was too angered to do anything but savagely rip the lance from her breast.

Tali of the Seventh Point Isle died without a sound, falling to the earth with a smile still on her lifeless lips.

* * *

A/N: I was quick to update this time! And...well...here it is. I'll write with much swiftness!


	77. Vengeance

Everglow - Chapter Seventy-Seven

They heard four steady, powerful beats in the passageway, increasing rapidly in sound due to the lengthy strides, and then Zack dove for Verian.

The great wolf's jaws clamped around the man's elbow, and with a flick of his head, the man's dominant arm was torn from his body at the joint.

Verian howled in pain and sank to his knees, clutching the bleeding stump to his breast, trying to stanch the bleeding with one hand alone. His breathing was erratic, his eyes wild and crazed. Zack roared furiously and forced the wounded man back, grabbing him in his powerful jaws and throwing him, raking long claws across his body in deep but short crimson streaks. Zack barked and continued frantically to attack, but try as he might, he could not land a vital blow. Man and wolf wrestled on the ground for a long time, one writhing mass of blood and flesh and fur.

Hojo was suddenly nowhere to be found.

Tali had fallen into Aralyn's thin arms. Tears fell from the woman's eyes as she held the corpse of her friend. She lovingly brushed the woman's red-tipped hair out of her face and closed the glazed eyes with two fingers. Though it would do no good, Aralyn began to tear the hem of her hospital gown and used it to bind Tali's chest and clean the surrounding area.

A proper burial could come later, they told themselves. They resolved to give her a funeral fit for a goddess. But this conflict could not pause.

Sephiroth could hear Kadaj's footsteps behind him. His remnant was charging him; he deducted this from the pattern of the beats. Sephiroth left his Masamune at his side and for one moment, closed his eyes, ignored the onslaught, removed himself from the battle…

But just before Kadaj's blade hit its mark, Sephiroth pivoted and swung his sword with all his strength. Now was not the time to hold anything back.

Kadaj's blade shattered on impact, the useless hilt falling to the side as slivers of silver littered the ground like stardust. The remnant was thrown back from the force, his back slammed against the cave wall. His breath deserted him in an audible rush of air, and what little he could draw in after such an attack sounded like a weak, whimpering cry. He fell to the ground, now on his hands and knees, without a weapon and stunned into paralysis.

The light left Kadaj's eyes as he realized that he was at the mercy of the general. He looked to be dead even before Sephiroth approached him slowly.

The dire finality of it all hit the remnant hard. Trembling like a little child, Kadaj looked up and pleaded, "Brother?"

Sephiroth's face and voice were devoid of all emotion. "You are no brother of mine."

Kadaj choked at the statement, not so much out of this severance of whatever family bonds they had, but more of a realization that he would receive no mercy. Sephiroth paused for a moment, then flicked his sword to Kadaj's jaw. The remnant's breath hissed out through tight lips, and he raised his chin to avoid a brush with the cold steel.

"I will give you only this: I will strike quick and true, which is more than you would have granted my family, and much, much less than you deserve."

A strangled whimper came from the remnant's lips; a pitiful, weak sound. Sephiroth paid no heed and readied his blade, to which Kadaj's eyes widened. The blood was gone from his face, and he trembled, knowing the end was near…

Sephiroth struck lightning quick, but Kadaj was not irreparably broken yet, and instinct drove him to dive futilely away at the last second. As a result, the blade was buried not mercifully in his heart, but awkwardly in the marrow of the bone of his shoulder.

Kadaj's back arched and he screamed, convulsing and contorting in anguish, trying to pry the sword from his body and only managing to lacerate his hands. Sephiroth's expression did not change. The blade was ripped from the body, Kadaj left to fall on his hands and knees, to suffer alone for a few heartbeats while his executioner's blade was readied, before Sephiroth plunged it through his back.

Yet again, Kadaj's attempt to avoid the imminent only granted him another wound, a few more failing heartbeats, and even fewer breaths of life. Another cry rent the air.

Sephiroth permanently silenced his remnant with a twist of his blade.

Tali had loving arms to embrace her and cushion her fall, but no one was beside Kadaj to offer such a favor. Sephiroth pivoted briskly and left the body to rot, turning his back to his younger brother without a second glance.

* * *

The sounds of the struggle stopped abruptly.

Zack, hardly wounded but for a small patch of fur that was missing, finally removed himself from Verian, who had fallen eerily still. Even so, they could hear him breathing. It was not done yet.

As Sephiroth approached Zack backed away, leaving Verian to Sephiroth's judgment.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Sephiroth asked quietly but intensely.

Verian's form quivered, then returned to the stillness, but not for long. No one expected such a loud, strong, crazed laugh to billow from the torn man. Then somehow, miraculously, he rose to his feet.

Verian dropped something green, and a pool of sulfurous yellow liquid gathered at his feet, then coated his shoes, climbing up from there like a living thing. Where the liquid passed, new, unmarred skin flowed and connected seamlessly. Color returned to his cheeks; his blood was being replenished. The only thing the substance hadn't cured was his severed arm, which, despite the flawless work everywhere else, would not heal properly.

Aralyn cried out and Sephiroth took his battle stance, ready to defend her.

"What have I to say?" Verian asked, chuckling still. "You would hear it? You won't like it, I'm afraid."

No one responded.

"Let's start with this then; you have won…today. You may win tomorrow. But this I vow. In the end, it is I who will arise as the victor.

"You banish me today, but I will return. And oh, the things I will bring with me." His voice lowered into a deadly snarl. "You will rue this day, Sephiroth. No…the day you laid eyes on my Gloria Dawn. I will break you…oh yes…this I can swear. I will have my vengeance."  
Sephiroth leapt but his sword bit only thin air; Verian's body was fading into smoky dust, fading gradually in luminescence. The strike disrupted the particles momentarily, but they flowed together to make the form yet again.

"And to you, my Lady Dawn, my betrothed…"

Aralyn looked up as if she had had some kind of force exerted on her being. It seemed to Sephiroth that her breathing stopped.

"Don't you _dare_ speak to her!"

"…My _wife_," Verian continued, crooning affectionately, not heeding Sephiroth's outburst. "I would have been kind to you. I don't think you know what a wonderful husband I might have been. Now…" The smoky figure leaned back its head and laughed long and hard yet again. Aralyn's alarmed cry was drowned. "Let's just say that when…not _if_, but _when_ you fall into my possession, I will not forget your treachery. My memory runs long, and I do not forgive easily, my dearest."

Features that had been blurred before were now almost entirely gone. His eyes were only dips in the shape of his face, without iris or pupil. The little details that made him distinctly human blurred, softened, then faded; things like the little details of the furrow in his brow or the creases in his hands. He looked to be a crude figure of shimmering clay with only shape, no form or finesse. He was neither beautiful nor ugly, and both concrete and insubstantial; everything about him was vague, in the gray area of existence. It was not natural.

Then, beginning with the outline of his form and collapsing in, Verian's specter flew away like sparks on a breeze that no one could feel. Nothing was left of the man.

Vivian was the only one to feel something grasp her hair and jerk hard. Too stunned to sound an alarm, she could only listen as Verian's voice hissed in her ear.

"I think I'll pay a little visit to your precious Vincent…just to make sure everything was done properly."

But no one else had heard, though it had been deafening to Vivian.

* * *

A/N: So here we have some justice. Tell me what you think!

AND! Exciting news! Tehn, who helps me out every now and again (more like every day...) has a fanfiction account now! She's the one who created Vega (and paired her with Yazoo) and wrote "Carvings", which is listed under mine because she didn't have an account. Well, now she has one! She is an amazing writer! As of yet she has a Sky High fic up and is working on a KH one. She's assured me that she will begin to work on the VegaYazoo fic soon. Anyway, check it out!

Next chapter is eh...bad cliffie. Be ye warned.


	78. Fade

Everglow - Chapter Seventy-Eight

There was little sound as Vega's chakram sank into the rock wall, as if she were cutting butter, not solid earth. Quickly, but with impossible skill and grace, she climbed to the ledge where Yazoo still laid using her chakram in her hands and relying on the natural footholds for her feet.

Yazoo was breathing heavily and his eyes were closed, but he was alive, which was more than she had dared to hope. As she approached, he opened his eyes and smiled wryly.

"I should have told you why I was getting so sick," he said smoothly. "I'm sorry."

Vega took the Velvet Nightmare, which she had brought up with her, and roughly rammed it into the holster at Yazoo's hip. "You'll be fine," she insisted. "Now get up, I'll help you down."

Yazoo gazed at her for a long time, observing how battle-weary she looked. Her red, knee length tunic was torn at the hem, the strips wrapped around Vivian's arms as bandages. Her hair was disheveled, coming out of the normally neat and tidy braid she kept. Her entire body was two shades darker from the dust and dirt.

"I think the others will understand if the two of us remain up here," Yazoo said quietly. "I don't think I have the strength to go down."

"I'll carry you. We're getting out of here. We'll get you help. Once you're tidied up a bit and your strength has returned we'll journey for a way to stop the degradation…"

"Vega," he breathed. "My strength will never return. This is the end."

She turned from him then, angry and bitter on the surface, but only to hide the hurt. "You must have hit your head," she concluded, "to say such silly things." She fidgeted a bit, an unusual movement for such a strong and confident woman.

"Vega, reach into my pocket."

"No! I'm mad at you! I'm not doing a thing until you admit that you're going to be okay!"

"Vega," he breathed her name affectionately, as if it were soothing and healing to him. "Never once have I lied to you. I won't begin now. Reach into my pocket. For me."

"I…"

"Vega, please."

Still moving briskly and angrily, she did as he asked, but her movements lost their snap as she pulled a beautiful ring from his pocket.

"I wanted to share the rest of my life with you. I was going to ask you if you would be mine…" He gently took her hand and softly slid the ring on her finger, then cradled her hand against his heart.

"Yes!" Vega cried, choking. "Yes, I accept! I'll be your bride! Take me away, marry me…just please _stay_ _with_ _me_!"

Yazoo took her warm hands and enfolded them in his cold and quaking ones. "Keep the ring and remember me, but don't be sad. If I die now, with you here, I'll be happy."

"No…_no…_!"

Yazoo shook his head sadly. "Let me hold you one last time, and then let me go."

Vega pulled sharply away and held her head in her hands. "No," she said one last time, raising her head after moments of hushed silence. "Aralyn, forgive me, I know your powers were not to be used this way…"

She moved close to Yazoo, sitting beside him, one hand on his heart as the other stroked his jaw comfortingly. She leaned down, bent so her face was just above his, their lips separated by nearly nothing.

"…But I don't care anymore."

She seized his face in her hands and forced her lips to his, kissing him long and hard, tears spilling onto Yazoo's cheeks as she cried silently.

Yazoo watched as every wound he had, every pain whether great or small, transferred to her body. She winced as cuts appeared on her skin, but did not break the kiss, even threw herself into it more, pleading for his strength. Then, at last, when she was trembling with pain and fatigue, he witnessed his sickness, his degradation, shimmer onto his love even as he was made seamlessly whole.

Her last breath exited her body in a loving, tender sigh. "Yazoo…"

Her ultimate sacrifice completed, Vega collapsed, her lifeless corpse falling across his body. He could almost feel her essence, her very being, seep out of the shell as she lay immobile, her heart so still and dead against his.

"Vega…Vega…_what have you done?!_"

* * *

Sephiroth stroked Aralyn's hair and held her tight, letting himself feel her living warmth, her breath, her heartbeat. Without letting go of her, he slid a hand to her abdomen, where he felt another little throbbing; his child's tiny heart and then a timid little kick. He was overwhelmed with relief.

"He's so sick too," she said, putting her own hand on her bulging stomach. Aralyn turned glistening eyes to her husband and clutched his hand for strength. "He hurts so badly…I can feel it."

"Hush," he soothed her. "All of us are alive, and it's over. If we've all survived this far, surely we'll be all right. The worst is gone. Soon we'll put all of this behind us." He buried his head in her hair and kissed her cheeks and forehead softly.

The pair rested for a moment in quiet, content to be with each other. When Sephiroth spoke again, it was with a small smile on his lips. "You refer to the baby as a 'he'. Is it a boy then?"

"I don't know, but it's just so cold to call our little baby an 'it'. Why? Are you having preferences?"

"You know I never could," he assured her. He stroked her stomach lovingly. "Boy or girl, it doesn't matter to me."

"Last time we got both," she reminded him. "How many do you want this time?"

He shook his head. "However many you're going to give me, that's how many I want. No more and no less."

She sighed tiredly. "Sounds good to me, but if it's all the same to you, I'd like less than ten. I am only human; I don't do litters."

Sephiroth chuckled softly and kissed her cheek. "If we do, we have two extra pairs of little hands to help us out."

"Are Nadiya and Aidan safe?" Aralyn asked, worry creasing her soft features.

"Yes, love. I sent Zack to protect them and lead them to Faramir. We'll leave whenever you're ready."

Aralyn thought a moment. "Zack will protect them?"

"Do you doubt it?"

"No I just…want to make sure they'll be safe for a while. I can't leave until we help Vincent."

Sephiroth hesitated, his features now drawn and tight. "Aralyn, Chaos controls him now."

"Vincent won't let Chaos hurt me."

"You don't know that Vincent has any say in the matter," he pointed out. "It's a gamble I'm not going to let you take. If you stay here with Vivian, I will go."

"Fine," she conceded. "Just try not to hurt him. Vincent takes all Chaos's wounds as he morphs back, you know. And you be safe too. Wait, Sephiroth, where's Vega and Yazoo?"

Yazoo leapt from the ledge, holding Vega close to him. He spoke quickly and urgently, franticly clutching Vega. "Sephiroth, the Everglow, before it's too late!"

Sephiroth looked at his remnant, then to Vega, and back to Yazoo. "I thought you…and Vega was fine."

"She took it…she took everything from me…and now…it's cost her life." He faltered, but continued shakily. "The bond between Aralyn and Vega is strong. Maybe if you heal her, it will be enough to…"

Sephiroth frowned. He knew that last time Vega's death had pushed Aralyn to her own, but it was still a rough bet to assume that it could be reversed. It was almost unreliable enough not to even place hope in, but Yazoo was desperate. Sephiroth could relate to losing his love, and he had no qualms about ending Aralyn's suffering now as opposed to later.

And, he reminded himself, if Vega was gone, it could only mean that Aralyn's end was near too.

He didn't waste another moment. Suddenly he couldn't move fast enough.

He pressed her to the ground, laying her on her back and putting her head on his knee. "Is this what you meant?" Aralyn asked. "The other cure you that you insisted existed?"

Sephiroth pulled the vial from his pocket and eased the silk cover away. "Yes."

"I shouldn't have doubted you," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"No need, just drink this. She said it would taste sweet, light as a dream, and it would be a painless healing, like being washed with warm water."

He pressed the mouth of the vial against her bottom lip, cupping her cheek in the other hand. "Drink it all, every drop," he urged, "or it won't even start to work. And don't spill! It's a dark venom if it leaves the vial and goes anywhere but your mouth."

The light from the Everglow bathed her features in soft colors, making her eyes sparkle. "The baby will be healed too?"

"You'll never know he was hurt."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. Would I give it to you if I had the slightest doubt?"

Aralyn nodded and parted her lips and Sephiroth tilted the vial up. The liquid glowed white as it spilled into her mouth, more pouring from the tiny vial than was even possible. She sipped one, then two mouthfuls, and the vial was not even one-fourth drained. Her eyes widened in pleasurable surprise, then closed in bliss.

They heard the shot too late.

Hojo stood so far off that his silhouette was only barely visible, but they all saw the gun. The weapon was aimed not at any of them, even though they were still and would have been caught unawares. Instead, his aim was on the thin, glowing vial that was pressed lightly to Aralyn's lips.

The bullet hit the vial, and the crystal shattered into star-like shards that fell with a sound like chimes. The Everglow was a dark black marbled with blood maroon before it ever spilled onto Aralyn's flesh.

They could only watch as the Everglow, Vega and Aralyn's last hope for life, spilled and turned to poison. With that one shot, no one was wounded, but many of their fates were sealed more surely than if he had shot them directly.

* * *

A/N: I'M A-WRITING PLEASE DON'T KILL ME! *hides under a rock*

And I DID warn you last chapter!


	79. The Collar

Everglow - Chapter Seventy-Nine

Sephiroth couldn't let himself feel the hopelessness just yet; he had much more pressing matters to attend to.

_Vengeance_.

It was the last straw that had broken his back. He had never been this furious. He used the anger to his advantage, running on its fuel while deliberately refusing to see what was underneath it all: grief.

He passed Aralyn to Yazoo, only barking, "Protect her!" before he sprinted away.

Aralyn cried after him, her pleas punctuated with pained moans, but he couldn't hear. If she had to die, if he had to endure such agony again, he would make Hojo suffer as well.

He didn't see the marks spread across his wife's body, the black streaks with a swampy purple around the edges.

* * *

Zack loped back to the main chamber as fast as he could, horrified by the noises he had heard. What he saw was equal to his worst expectations. Aralyn looked to be something from a nightmare, her beautiful features marred by the rapidly spreading marks. She was shivering violently, but sweating as if in the heart of a volcano. Vega was discarded to the side, and Yazoo deliberately looked away from her, unable to bear it. Vivian was trembling in the corner, her mobility not returned yet.

Aralyn turned to Zack and blanched. "Where…where are my children?" her voice was quiet and strained. "Did you find them?"

Zack hung his head in shame and whimpered.

"No," she breathed. "No…they're probably just frightened, that's all. Hiding, that's it. They're all right…aren't they?"

Zack's tail was between his legs, his great shoulders hunched, his nose brushing the ground. He whimpered again, shaking his head. Even if he could speak, he wouldn't have told her that the twins' trail was masked by a heavily chemical scent; a chemical so rare, that the only possible explanation was that an infamous scientist had found them first.

He was very grateful that he didn't have a voice then, because he didn't know how he would tell her that her children were gone and her husband was most likely walking right into a trap.

* * *

They weren't in Lucrecia's chamber, but the appearance of this room was very similar. A large pool covered half of the spacious room, probably connected by a waterway to its twin pond, reflecting the brilliant crystals that hung from the walls and ceiling. The only difference was the absence of the small island in the middle. The ground was all gray; solid rock sparsely spread with dull dust and scattered with stones from pebbles to small boulders. It was a bleak place, even with the lively crystals that glimmered happily.

Lucrecia was bound hand and foot, gagged with cloth, and set at Hojo's feet, gazing at her son with wide emerald eyes. The scientist's gun was pointed in Sephiroth's direction, but he made no attempt to fire. Sephiroth drew Masamune slowly, purposefully, knowing that this was the most important battle he would ever fight. The harsh sound of metal against sheathe was elongated into literally seconds, and Lucrecia cringed, out of reaction to the sound or out of worry Sephiroth could not guess.

"So, son, we meet again. Just you and me." He looked down with disgust at the bound woman. "Well, your worthless mother too, but she won't be interfering."

Sephiroth took one step forward, then another, closing the distance between them by a few feet. He didn't know why Hojo was baiting him on; he was furious enough. He would see that once Sephiroth got his hands on him.

"I must confess," Hojo continued, "I did not know you were in possession of…what was it you called it?...the Everglow. I am quite intrigued as to the venom you said it would potentially be…I think I will have to use that as the basis for my next experiments. Perhaps with your children as my honorary first subjects."

"You won't be living that long," Sephiroth assured him. His voice was as level as the surface of the pond, dangerously so, conveying his rage and hatred by revealing nothing at all.

"You won't be touching me, Sephiroth; nor I, you," Hojo rebuked him confidently. "You're too valuable to lose, my specimen. After what I saw in the containment lab I was only reminded of that further. I have barely scratched the surface of the Jenova Project! There's so much to be learned and studied. I won't be maiming a prime subject."

"No matter," Sephiroth responded. "It only makes my job easier if you will not fight back."

"Ah, but I did not say that, did I? Perhaps I won't fight, but you won't hurt me, because you need me."

"You're mad!" Sephiroth spat.

Hojo brushed the insult aside. "I am the only one who can save your wife, and you know that."

Sephiroth stopped despite himself. Was it possible? Did Aralyn really have to die?

Seeing he had Sephiroth hooked, Hojo continued. "I'll find an antidote for that rancid Everglow. I'll let Aralyn, the baby, and even your children go, I'll leave them alone forever. All I ask is for one thing…"

Sephiroth knew it before he even said it.

"You."

He paused for emphasis, letting it sink in, before he produced a metal collar from his pocket, holding it out to Sephiroth. "I want you. Your life will be as your childhood was, but isn't that a petty price for the safety of your family?"

Sephiroth's catlike pupils shrunk to slivers of black as Hojo approached him, putting the collar in his hands.

"Put it on, Sephiroth."

Sephiroth stood stunned. Aralyn would be devastated, and the children would never know their father, but wasn't that preferable to a life strapped to an operating table under the scalpel, or stored in the burning Mako until Hojo brought them out for his sadistic pleasure?

Aralyn knew he loved her with every fiber of his being. She would understand why he did it, what drove him to sacrifice himself for his beautiful wife and children. She would be so hurt, but time would heal. Yazoo and Zack could care for her. His family could live, they could love and be happy and be _free_…

He only wished he could tell her that he loved her one last time.

Sephiroth took the metal collar and pressed it around his neck, feeling the break connect itself seamlessly, forming an unbroken ring. He felt like he was burning, and then he was very, very faint. He fell to his knees with a groan. He knew without a doubt that now and forever more, he was Hojo's property. He was a puppet who would do as his master willed without protest. Sephiroth the man was no more, an empty shell to later be filled with pain.

"Oh, oh, Aralyn…" he cried as his world tilted and spun.

The world went red, then turned without transition to the black of oblivion.

* * *

"Daddy!" Aidan shrieked as he watched his father fall to the ground. "Daddy, daddy, _get up daddy!_"

"Your father can't hear you," Hojo said casually. "Save your breath."

Aidan, closely followed by his sister, ran toward their father, but Hojo shot, making a ripple not two inches from where Aidan's foot had been a split-second before. The pair leapt back, Aidan shielding Nadiya with his arms.

"Don't touch him, you'll wake him up!" Hojo was furious now, nervous that the twins might have spoiled his plan, but soon he relaxed into his smug, oily expression. "Now, do I have to shoot you or will you come with me quietly?"

"You won't shoot us!" Aidan yelled back, his tiny hands clenched into white fists. "You want us, too!"

"Smart kid," Hojo remarked snidely. "You know me well. Better than your father here, at least. The fool, so blinded by love…I thought I had taught him better than that." Hojo laughed harshly. "It was so easy…too easy! He took it without question! The fool! The blind fool!"

Hojo extended his arms in mock welcome. "Oh, come now. I have a nice laboratory built just especially for the two of you. If you are good children, I'll let you stay together and visit your wretched mother and her little brat every once in a while. If not, there are plenty of rooms in the building. You two can spend the rest of your miserable little lives alone."

_"But Daddy…_" Nadiya signed.

"Oh no, that will never do. He'll be kept in a special isolated cell; he'll never see another human except me for as long as he lives. _You'll_ never see him again. It wouldn't matter if you did; he's under my control now, but he's more submissive when he's grieving. I've constructed a convincing little 'accident' for you two and your mother…unrelated to me, of course!...and believe me when I say that he will grieve it for the rest of his life."

He continued despite the twins' looks and began to pace the length of the room toward them. "He won't fight me once he thinks you're dead, you see. He will have nothing to fight for! All he ever cherished will be gone! It's so brilliant! I have finally, after all these years, found a way to break him of his rebellious spirit! And oh, the irony! In reality, you'll all be well within his reach!" He laughed again, high and long.

"Maybe I'll let you have a reunion too…in eighty years or at the end of however many years I can pry from him, I'll let him see you're alive, just to see his face before I kill him. It would be _so_ very satisfying…"

The twins scooted back, but couldn't move enough to escape Hojo's slow approach. It was Nadiya that first saw the flicker of shadow well behind Hojo, away from the scientist's attention, that flitted closer and closer to her father.

_That sword!_ She thought. _It couldn't be…!_

She took her brother's hand. To Hojo it might have seemed like she was comforting him in this their last hour of freedom, but in reality, it was an assurance that maybe this wasn't over just yet.

* * *

A/N: Any guesses about who it is? I think you will be muchly surprised.

Anyway, I'm having chapter placement issues. This one here (with sephy and his kids) is problem number 1. I can resolve it completely next chapter...that means bye-bye Hojo! One problem off your plate. The other option is to introduce crisis number 2 (Vincent), and then resolve them both the chapter after that. I know you're itching to see what poor Vin-vin is up to, and I'm offering to tell you next.

Basically, if you could decipher all that, I'm asking whether you want to hear about Sephiroth or Vincent next chapter. It won't matter to the storyline, you'll get it all anyway, I just can't decide which to put first. I'll go with majority. If that doesn't work you guys get eenie-meenie-miney-moe.

We're almost over the hill, I promise! It's almost the end of the cliffhangers. Almost the end of the _book_, actually. I'm itching to begin The Marked!

Thank you for your support! I couldn't do it without you! *scatters e-cheeses like confetti*


	80. Seraph

Everglow - Chapter Eighty

Sephiroth was awakened by a frantic tapping on his side. At first he frowned his annoyance and shrugged it off, but then hands found his shoulder, and something wet dripped from the other's hands onto his body. He felt as if he had been tied in a burlap sack and beaten, his whole body ached and burned, he didn't want to return. Thought was muddled and indecipherable even to himself. Nothing made sense. Colors shifted, swam, and faded to gray. He perceived sounds as if hearing them through water.

Lucrecia kept kicking him with her feet that were tied, not with enough force to hurt but ample to get his attention. With great effort, she had wormed and writhed her way to her son despite the bindings, tracks in the dirt a clear testament to her struggle. The hands she used to press insistently on his shoulder were still bound together, and the wetness was blood that dripped from her wrists, the result of her futile struggle against her rough ropes. Her face was pale and frightened, her eyes wide and brimming with tears. Through that gloss, Sephiroth could see reflections of moving figures, brief glimpses of silver, of pristine lab-coat white. From behind the wad of cloth in her mouth he could hear muffled screams.

It took him a long time to decipher the urgent message.

"Get up!" It sounded like. "The children! Do something!"

Clarity of his situation returned full force. He rushed to his feet quickly, too quickly. His sword was out in a flash, but the resulting strong, bell-like peal of metal against sheathe alerted Hojo. The man turned, gazing at him as if annoyed, peering at him with dark, ruthless eyes through his glasses.

"Must you always get in the way, Lucrecia?" his lips were pursed in displeasure. Lucrecia looked defiantly on, but flashes of fear ran through her otherwise level gaze. "No matter. Sephiroth, you will stay and watch as I punish your children for your disobedience."

The collar around his neck flared as if with fire and sparked with raw electricity. Sephiroth gasped, his hands flying to his throat in an attempt to silence the furious pain and the unbearable roaring ringing in his ears. But as his hands touched the metal, everything only intensified. He must have lost consciousness for a split second before Hojo gave the command for him to wake. A short series of orders and Sephiroth stood with his back to the wall, hands behind his back, bound as if with iron, eyes fixed on his terrified children, unable to look away. He could no longer control his body enough even to shout a warning to his children or a threat to their attacker. To fight was worse than useless.

Aidan screamed for him and Nadiya cried freely, her soul screaming as loud as Aidan's voice.

Nodding in approval once Sephiroth was adequately bound, Hojo then turned his attention to the twins. "Well, no need to wait, I suppose. Accident or not, it's all the same to me. Dead is dead." He leaned closer to them, hissing, "Don't worry, I'll revive you later, but Daddy doesn't know that."

Hojo turned his back to the children as he bared his gun and slid a handful of the pointed bullets in, waiting until he had causally strode to Sephiroth's side to shut the ammunition chamber and remove the lock with a click. Nearly half the room stood between him and the paralyzed children; he was flaunting both how helpless and pitiful the children were and how much dominance he held over their fate. Slowly, leisurely, he turned to face the twins and fluidly aimed at the children, making sure to show Sephiroth the gun and smirking as a furious retort was silenced by a flare of the collar.

He took his time, moving the barrel from one position to another, acting as if undecided. First the center of Aidan's forehead, then Nadiya's heart, then their joined hands, he contemplated where to hit, how long to draw it out, whether a quick death or a slow one would break Sephiroth more.

"The wings first, I think," he murmured to himself.

Aidan hissed and Nadiya retracted her wings, compacting them so tightly against her back that not one feather of the huge appendages was visible.

Hojo sighed in annoyance. "If I have to shoot through the both of you to pierce them, I will."

Neither of them moved, so Hojo took a different approach. He pressed the barrel of the gun to their father's temple.

"Your choice, Nadiya: your wing or your father."

Nadiya resolutely pushed her brother to the side, who was too stunned to resist, and spread her wings full length, one of them still at a terribly awkward angle, keeping her upper lip stiff, trying to stop it from trembling. She curled herself into a ball and shuddered, waiting for the blast aimed at her one wing that remained healthy and intact, the shot that would render both of her wings as irreparably broken and useless structures of flesh, blood, and feathers.

"Nadiya, _no_…!" Sephiroth cried before he was subdued yet again.

Hojo fired.

But the shadow that had flitted at her father's side before leapt into the light as quick as lightning but as silent as night. In a space of time too small for Nadiya to comprehend, a large sword taller and thicker than her was hefted into position and swung, deflecting not one, but all ten of the bullets Hojo had fired in quick succession.

The man assumed his battle stance, sword held at the ready across his body, feet planted firmly in front of the twins, a solid barrier against harm. His face was grim, his eyes intensely and angrily focused on Hojo.

Seconds after the assault had passed, the twins found themselves capable of response. "…Cloud?" Aidan asked timidly, disbelievingly.

Nadiya's eyes shone. _"You came for us!"_

Cloud did not turn to respond to either of them. "Get out of here," he said gravely, returning their heartfelt gratitude and surprise with a military-like solemnity appropriate for the battlefield. "I'll cover you."

But Cloud's protection was no longer needed.

Cloud's arrival had set Hojo off balance for a few seconds, enough time for Sephiroth to act, but not enough for Hojo to register what the enraged sparking of the collar meant as it tried in vain to restrain its captive.

Sephiroth was a fearsome sight. The collar was going wild, and electricity poured from his neck and cascaded down and through his body, making him glow. His hair waved, moved with the sparks, more white than silver in the luminescence. His eyes were devoid of pain or fear, blank for anything except rage, the mako green shining with the light of the sparks and the fervor of his anger. His white skin glowed ethereally in the light, his features were smooth and unmarred, and his outstretched wing and clothes, in contrast, were the blackest of oblivion. The white fire flared down the length of his sword until it glowed with a self-sustaining light of its own as it lay sheathed across his back.

He looked like a perfect, seraphic, wrathful god, eager to administer justice.

Sephiroth's glowing hand closed around the barrel of the gun, and with a movement of his wrist and fingers, bent the metal shaft until it was at a right-angle to itself, so that when the gun was held level the vent would shoot to the sky. The metal gave way to its new position with a groan.

Hojo had only time to gape stupidly at his now useless weapon before it was ripped from his hand, tossed into the water. Confusion turned to astonishment, then astonishment to fear. "Back down, Sephiroth. Stay back_, I command you!_"

The light enfolding Sephiroth brightened as the collar responded, but when it faded to a bearable level again, Sephiroth was as composed as ever.

"Subdue him!" Hojo cried, his voice breaking in fear as he stepped back. He had had his moments of bravado, of glory, and now that was being stripped away to reveal the coward he truly was.

Sephiroth did not even flinch at the command, and began a slow, regal approach toward the cowering scientist.

Hojo turned his back to Sephiroth and sprinted away. Sephiroth did not speed up, rather, let him escape, knowing that the way which Hojo had fled led only to a solid rock cavern with no escape…

* * *

Hojo had found a length of pipe somewhere along his path of retreat. The thing was both too lengthy and too heavy for the stick of a man to wield, but he gripped it nonetheless. Sephiroth saw that he knew, however he tried to fight it, that he could not stand against him, whom the scientist had specially bred since before birth and enhanced since his first breath as an infant. Hojo did not have a prayer for standing against his own greatest creation.

"Son," Hojo squeaked out. "My _son_…you wouldn't…"

"I am no son of yours," the destroying angel said. "I will go fatherless before I give you such a role in my life."

"You can't deny your own kin!" Hojo retorted weakly, growing ever more desperate. Sweat was rolling down his face. "Your own blood!"

"Jenova was a more considerate parent than you!" Sephiroth yelled, shaking the man with his powerful voice. "You may have given me life, but now I am going to take yours, regardless of that or any other ties you may hold to me. Goodbye, _father._"

Sephiroth drew the flaming Masamune, his executioner's blade from his back, and the blood ran from Hojo's face. He choked, trying to think of a retort, something that would save his life, but only managed to stand mute and open-mouthed before his executioner.

"Sephiroth--!"

The blade rose and then arched beautifully, lethally down, leaving a residue of lightning in its wake, light that faded after the blade had passed. Hojo let out a scream and leapt back, but the blade caught his calf, severing the tender muscle from his knee to his ankle.

The force of the blow sent a deafening roar through the caverns, spreading for miles before it would be silenced. The earth shook and revolted, and a weak ledge that had held up an avalanche of tons of solid rock split in two. The stones spilled down with a new sound, a rattle that added to the earth's upheaval.

When the dust cleared, the entrance to the cave where Hojo had been was sealed behind tons and tons of granite.

Sephiroth's glowing aura faded, normality returning and bringing with it a terrible fatigue. The struggle had been enormous, and he felt empty, like he had given all he had and was left with nothing. With a sigh, he fell back against the wall, his knees buckling under him. He slid to the ground, tired and spent of far more than his physical energy.

The cavern was large, and Hojo had been wounded. In the dark, the scientist would stumble and drag himself around in search of sustenance. There was a small, murky stream that trickled between two rocks; perhaps it might be enough to sustain him for a week or so, assuming he found it at all, but Sephiroth knew without a doubt that the man was doomed. Even if he found the water, even if his leg did not get infected by the heavy earthen air or bled to death, or he found some cave creature to eat, he would die. His air would be plentiful at first, but within a month he would succumb to his own tainted breath.

But, most likely, he would die before that. Assuming he found the water, Sephiroth expected it to be two weeks.

Before he had been sealed away, Sephiroth had seen the brown patch on the scientist's hand, the mark of the infected.

Hojo would die a victim of his own disease, just as Tali had promised with her dying breath.

Sephiroth laid back and closed his eyes, taking no pleasure in the thought of his father's death, only an absence of anger, a tentative peace, and an assurance that his work was done.

His family would no longer suffer at the scientist's hands.

He slipped into darkness with a small smile on his lips, lulled into peace at long last by the thought.

* * *

A/N: So it was Cloud. You guys are smart. ;)

Any complaints about Hojo's death? I like the irony, but am willing to negotiate if anyone has any more suggestions.

So...sorry if the glowy Sephy was a little much, but I thought it was a nice, dramatic flair. Personally, I think--(fangirl shriek...then melts into oozing liquid from too much hotness...heart shaped bubbles rising to the sky) I love Sephy...

Meh...still looked better in my head. There are no words for such hotness. He should be illegal. He's making me TINGLY!


	81. Embrace

Everglow - Chapter Eighty-One

"Daddy?"

Soft, small hands were rested timidly on his shoulders, making little spots of warmth on his chilled body. "Daddy?" the voice called again. It was so young and innocent, but breaking with worry. He heard the tremors and felt little pinpricks of wetness fall on his clothes. "Daddy, get up! You _have _to!" was the repeated plea. The hands gripped his shoulders and shook him with surprising strength, but it only softly rocked the General's body.

_"Daddy!_"

Sephiroth slowly rose to consciousness. He was so very tired, but he nonetheless sighed softly and then opened his eyes for the sake of the boy that was curled at his side and pleading for him to wake.

Bright, peridot green eyes greeted him, wide in surprise. The silver-haired boy blinked once, twice, as he gazed intently at his father. His lips parted. "Daddy?" he asked in a slow, soft whisper.

Sephiroth fluidly moved his arm across his body to the shoulder where the small hand rested. For a long moment, he hesitantly let his hand hover beside his son's. Tenderly, as if in a dream, he touched his fingertips to his son's warm hand, afraid he would fade as he did so. At last, assured it was not a dream, he took the small hand in his own, entirely enfolding the small fingers in his hand.

"Aidan," he breathed at last in reply. Then, smiling tenderly, "My son…"

Aidan laid his head on his heart, snuggling close, wrapping his slender arms around his father's chest. Sephiroth sat up, clutching his son close, embracing him with all he had. Aidan adjusted himself so he sat in Sephiroth's lap, and tilted his head so it rested on his shoulder.

They stayed that way for a long time, still and content.

Footsteps came toward them and Sephiroth tensed, breathing in sharply, his senses suddenly keen and ready for battle, his instincts for protecting his son overpoweringly sharp and consuming. Aidan reluctantly but quickly parted with his father as well, standing in a firm stance, though he had no weapon and Sephiroth would have much preferred it if he stood behind him.

It was Cloud, and behind him peered another set of green eyes framed by wisps of curled silver hair.

Cloud avoided Sephiroth's eyes, choosing to look backward instead. He urged the girl behind him forward by tilting his head toward the General.

Shyly, Nadiya stepped out from behind Cloud, her hands clasped nervously, half of her face veiled by her flowing hair. She shuffled her feet, looking up at her father while her head was bowed.

Cloud put a hand on her back and gave her a little nudge. "Go on."

Nadiya still didn't move, rooted firmly to the spot.

"Sis, it's daddy," Aidan said. "Don't be scared!"

Sephiroth sank to his knees so he could be eye level with Nadiya. He didn't try to coerce or approach her in any way, but extended one arm, ready to receive her should she decide to come. "Nadiya," he breathed, not a as a command, but a gentle, loving summons.

Nadiya ran into his arms.

She began to cry into his chest, weeping with joy. Sephiroth soothed her and held her tight. His eyes closed as he rocked her back and forth. She reached her hands up and wrapped them around his neck, pressing close to him. She reached her head up and kissed him on his cheek, and a tremor ran through the General's body, a falter so great that Cloud feared he might drop her. He was beaming brightly as he affectionately stroked her hair.

When they broke away, Nadiya reached pale fingers and pressed them under his eyes, brushing away the tears that no one had seen until then. She kissed his cheek again and returned to his arms. "_No more tears, Daddy,"_ she signed. _"We're happy now."_

Sephiroth chuckled softly, a deep rumble in his throat, and kissed the top of her head, then extended his arm to invite Aidan into the group. He readily came, and Sephiroth embraced the two of them at once, holding his twins for the first time in more than nine years.

_"Family,"_ Nadiya signed.

"Yeah, sis," Aidan purred in agreement. "At last."

* * *

Cloud felt like an outsider, an intruder. For a while he watched the reunion, but soon found he could take it no longer. He didn't feel like he belonged here; this was meant for the children and Sephiroth. He silently slipped into the shadows and slid away.

But not even the shadows could hide him from Sephiroth's keen eyes.

"Cloud," he called.

Cloud considered just walking away, as he doubted Sephiroth would have pursued him, but he stopped anyway. He sighed, then turned back to face Sephiroth, but did not draw closer. The distance between them spanned wider in perception than it was in reality.

Sephiroth had risen to his feet, holding Nadiya, who was curled in his arms with her head on his shoulder, and Aidan stood, but still clung to his father's leg. It was odd to see two young children with the proud and fearless General, a sight that looked oddly natural and _right _despite the irony of his conflicting roles of father and master of the battlefield.

"Why did you do this?" Sephiroth asked.

Cloud gave a soft scoffing noise, but it wasn't bitter, more contemplative. "They're just kids," he replied. "They…didn't deserve that."

Sephiroth closed his eyes, breathing out slowly, seeing his children held at gunpoint behind his eyes. For a moment he looked agonized, tortured, but the furrows in his face smoothed as Nadiya wriggled in his arms.

"Regardless, _I_ did not deserve what you did." His voice was only a fraction of a level above silence. "Why did you come?"

Cloud had no answer for that.

"If you came seeking my life," Sephiroth said quietly as he opened his eyes at last, "it is yours, take it however you will. I won't resist. It is shamefully little payment for all you have done." He drew the Masamune from its sheathe and threw it at Cloud's feet, where it laid planted upright in the solid rock.

Nadiya and Aidan clutched tighter to him, Aidan crying out in alarm, but Cloud stilled their cries with one word.

"No."

Silence rang, then Sephiroth raised one eyebrow. "No?"

"I still don't know why I came," Cloud continued. "But…it wasn't for revenge. That much I know."

No one moved as Cloud thought a moment, composing himself. He turned his eyes to Nadiya's thin legs, the scars that ran across her milky skin, and the way her wing was still at a gruesome angle. The gown that hung from her thin shoulders doubtlessly hid much, much more.

"No one deserves the life they've led," he murmured. "…the life _you've_ led."

There was a small hiatus before Cloud spoke again. "You should get back. She needs you. Your wife, I mean."

"…Yes, I suppose so."

"Yeah," Cloud awkwardly turned away and took a step.

"Cloud?" Sephiroth called again.

Cloud turned his head back to meet Sephiroth straight in the eyes. Those weren't the murderous pools of the monster that had ravaged Nibelheim or plunged a blade through a kneeling, defenseless girl as she prayed on the altar. Those weren't the eyes of the demon who had wanted to wipe all life from the planet.

"…Thank you," was all that the General said.

Nadiya tugged softly at a fistful Sephiroth's hair to get his attention, which he readily granted. Nodding his understanding, he dipped down to carefully set the girl on her feet. Nadiya turned from her father and ran, throwing herself around Cloud's ankles.

She stood just taller than his knees, but encircled both his legs with eager arms, her soft wings fluttering gently behind her. She buried her face in his thigh and squeezed his legs in a heartfelt hug.

Cloud lost his balance, keeling over backward, catching himself on the cave wall, where he gained the support he needed to stay erect. He seemed incredibly uncomfortable, unsure of what to do. He breathed out through clenched teeth in a nervous hiss, then patted the girl's head once or twice.

"Nadiya," Sephiroth called gently. "You're making him nervous."

The girl pulled away quickly, averting her eyes, blushing furiously. Her head was bowed in shame, her shoulders drooping in apology. She shuffled her feet and waited for a reaction.

"Hey," Cloud said. "Come by and play with Marlene sometime."

Nadiya grinned, considering herself forgiven, and raised her hands to sign. _"Do you mean we are friends at last?"_

Cloud smiled softly and reached down to ruffle her hair once more. This time, he squeezed her shoulder as he assured her, "Yeah, Nadiya. We're friends. No more fighting, okay?"

The girl nodded, grinning, then hugged him once more, but only briefly, before she skipped happily back to her father, who received her immediately.

"You have good kids," Cloud observed. "You take care of them."

Sephiroth nodded. "I will. You take care, too."

Cloud raised his hand in parting and then disappeared into the cave.

"You think we'll ever see him again, Daddy?" Aidan asked.

_"'Course we will!"_ Nadiya signed. _"After all, he's our big brother!"_

_

* * *

_

A/N: It's been too long, and I apologize. But for the holidays, a heatwarming reunion. That huggy, sappy, happy one, with no evil Hojo or Verian in sight.

Yeah. I needed a break from all that action. It won't be for long. *sigh* Hope you all aren't sticky from the sap.

Okay, Vinnie is taking a long time to write. Don't get...eh_...too_ scared. I love Vinnie too, so I want him done _right._

Many e-egg nogs and gingerbread and...cheeses...to all! Happy Holidays!


	82. Heartglow and Soulshine

Everglow - Chapter Eighty-Two

Nadiya had never been carried anywhere. At least, not when she wasn't half-sedated or taken against her will.

It was a lot of fun. She liked being so close to her father, her head on his heart so she could hear the beats that were as soothing as a lullaby as his fluid strides rocked her softly. He was very warm and strong, keeping her content and safe in his arms. She wanted to sleep, and even closed her eyes for a little while. The cave was scary, but her father wouldn't let anything happen to her. She was, for the first time in her life, totally and completely secure.

She once asked Aidan if he wanted a turn, but he shook his head and told her to sleep. He preferred to walk alongside him, measuring how many of his quick, light steps it took to fill his father's majestic strides. He followed his father dutifully and without question, like a lithe and bright little shadow, completely trusting of this man they had known for only a few precious hours despite all the things they had heard since their infancy.

Sephiroth cradled his daughter in one arm so the other could remain at his side, clasping his son's hand.

At the entrance to the room where the battle had raged, Sephiroth stopped. "Aidan, I need to ask a favor of you."

Aidan tilted his head up to face his father. "Sure!" he chirped.

He released Aidan's hand and began to rub Nadiya's back, gently rousing her from the peaceful slumber she had fallen into. The girl yawned, stretched her healthy wing, and resumed a happy smile. He set her down beside her brother.

"It might not be safe for you to come in, I need to check. Can you two stay together and wait for me here? If something happens, make a lot of noise and I'll hear you. I won't even be fifty feet away. Understand?"

"Okay Daddy," Aidan said. "But what's so scary? You look so pale, what's wrong?"

* * *

Sephiroth didn't know how to answer that. What could he have said?

_Your mother is dying…she might already be dead._ _There's a chance that the poison might spread to you if I let you near. I could lose all of you in a day…_

No. He wouldn't let them know, not when they had only just reunited.

"Just stay here," he assured them. "I'll be fine, all right?"

"Okay," Aidan sighed, but he was far from content. Nadiya stuck the very tip of her thumb in her mouth and bit the nail nervously. Sephiroth knew she sensed something ominous. He gave her a reassuring pat on her hand as he stood. He made sure that neither child followed him as he entered the cavern, then turned his attention to his wife.

Aralyn's flaring, bruise-like markings had faded to mere shadows that consumed her body. While the color was no longer as vivid, she looked far from healthy. What wasn't tinted gray-purple was milky, sickly white. Her hands trembled, though they were clenched tight, and she was sweating heavily, beads running into crystal rivulets. Her hair hung in limp, dead strands, splayed out and dull. Her eyes were closed as she tried not to weep, and she was gasping in deep, heavy breaths; trying valiantly but failing to hide her great pain.

Yazoo looked to Sephiroth in anguish. He could return no solace.

Yazoo nodded gravely, wordlessly, and picked up his Vega's limp form, stumbling away to grieve alone.

Sephiroth knelt in the dust and scooped up his wife's cold, clammy hand, entwining his fingers in hers and squeezing reassuringly. He bent his head and pressed his hands to his forehead, mouthing what might have been a pleading prayer.

Aralyn opened her glazed, glassy eyes and gave a weak smile. "Are the children…?"

"Safe," Sephiroth assured her. "And unhurt."

She smiled genuinely, hope shining in her eyes, but it was soon washed away as another tremor shook her form. Sephiroth clenched her hand, bowing over her body, gritting his teeth to suppress his own anguished cry. He clung to her hand like a dying man to a lifeline, as if his strength might pass to her.

The flare passed, and she fell limp again, though she couldn't stop the strangled whimpers that sounded from the back of her throat. She was trying to be strong. Sephiroth shook once, his shoulders heaving in a sob, before he composed himself.

"Can I see them?" Aralyn asked. "One last time before—" She trailed off, maybe fearful of saying it, maybe lacking the strength to finish. Both seemed equally as likely.

Sephiroth hesitated, but he couldn't deny his beloved her dying wish.

"And then, Sephiroth," she began to quake again, this time out of fear. Her voice was a mere breath. "I need you to take me to Midgar, to the hospital, and you need to tell them…to take the baby from me, before it's too late."

Sephiroth raised his head, his eyes wide with fear and alarm. He wavered, though he was stable on his knees. "Aralyn, it's _months _too early!"

She was crying silently now, great tears falling from her cerulean eyes. "The baby will die with me if we don't."

The truth rang heavy and dark in the air, looming and pressing them further into despair.

"Maybe…with the technology, they can save him…" she whispered, but it was clear from the waver in her voice that she didn't believe it herself. They both knew it was a hopeless gamble. She was barely three months along. Such a premature baby surviving was unheard of.

"Let me see my children," she pleaded.

Sephiroth sighed deeply, despairingly, and then nodded. "Aidan," he called. "Nadiya, it's safe. Come here."

The light footsteps followed immediately. Timid at first, they grew happier and quicker as both saw their mother.

"Mommy!" Aidan called, bouncing happily to her side, Nadiya skipping close behind. The light and joy they brought with them was painful against the dark fate staring them in the face. Sephiroth forced a small smile, and Aralyn embraced them warmly, still wishing she looked healthier.

The twins didn't care that their mother was wet and cold, they loved her all the same, hugging her tightly and kissing her sweetly just as enthusiastically as they had with their father. The two looked in awe at their mother's swollen stomach, embracing her middle, as that was the closest they could get to their newest sibling. They were so happy, unable to be brought down by little things like a few dark patches on their mother's soft hands. Sephiroth enfolded them all, his wife and three children, in his arms, struggling to maintain a straight face as the thought hit him that this was the first and last time he would ever do so.

Nadiya was the first to feel that something was amiss. _"Mommy?" _she signed. _"Why are you so cold?"_ As a remedy, she spread her wings, folding the healthy one around her mother and even managed to lay the injured one across her body.

Aralyn could not speak. The duty to answer fell to Sephiroth.

"Your mother is very sick, Nadiya."

The two frowned, looking at her sympathetically, but they would not be daunted. Nadiya gave her sweetest smile and another soft kiss on the cheek.

"We'll go home!" Aidan said. "You can lay in bed and we'll keep you warm. Nadi makes some great soup…you'll be better soon for sure!"

Sephiroth's façade fell and Aralyn's calm facial expression shattered. They looked to each other. How could they tell them that this wasn't a sickness that could be cured with a little soup, a little rest, and a lot of love?

How could they tell them she was dying?

"_Does baby make you sick?"_ Nadiya asked. _"Is baby being bad?"_

"No, Nadiya," Aralyn said. "Baby is…"

"Fine," Sephiroth finished, forcing the word out, feeling the guilt of his lie. The baby wasn't fine. He was about to be forced into the world far, far before his time. Sephiroth didn't think he could bear to see such a tiny thing, didn't believe he could withstand watching it suffocate and wither away.

Sephiroth laid a protective hand on Aralyn's abdomen, but this was the one time when he had no power whatsoever to protect.

* * *

The children did not pick up on the dire mood. They had never been happier. Sephiroth thought that maybe it was better this way. They would remember being truly happy with their mother. Aralyn squeezed his hand and he knew that she shared his thoughts.

"Oh, Nadi!" Aidan said excitedly. "Show Mommy your pretty rocks!"

Nadiya grinned and pulled out the satchel from where she had tied it neatly at her side. With Sephiroth's help, Aralyn sat up, reaching out to receive her daughter as the girl leapt into her lap, her stones in hand. She smiled. "What have you found, sweetie?"

One by one, each stone was extracted, set in her mother's palm, and examined. Nadiya pointed out prominent veins of color or minerals or noted how smooth a particular side was. Each little pebble was admired individually, each detail praised.

After a while there was a small mountain of the examined rocks at Aralyn's side, and the bag looked deflated and lighter. Nadiya grinned widely. _"My favorite, Mommy. For you!"_ The girl reached in and pulled out the last rock, the most radiant and precious of them all, the crowning gem of her collection.

The rainbow rock fell into her mother's palm, but it never touched her flesh.

The rock levitated about an inch above her hand.

The all stopped and stared at this phenomenon, thinking that maybe time had frozen. They waited for a long time, but the stone never fell, and in fact began to rise a little, bobbing gently, like a buoy in the ocean.

"That's never happened before, has it, Nadi?" Aidan asked uncomfortably, unsettled a bit. Nadiya shook her head.

They observed the stone very closely, both amazed and unnerved. It looked to be composed of tinted glass, crushed in shards as fine and small as grains of salt, running the length of the spectrum from red on one end to violet on the other. Now they could see it was hollow. A tiny chamber housed a flickering light that pulsed like a living heart.

"_Pretty,"_ Nadiya signed, transfixed.

Within the tiny rainbow colored crystals the light was gaining in strength and magnitude.

Where Aralyn's hand was bathed in that warm light, the shadows of the rancid poison fled. Blood rushed to her newly washed hand, and her skin was a pale rose hue, the color of life, of hope.

The light retracted, dimming to a nearly invisible dot within the translucent stone. Breathless, they all watched as the light expanded again, this time brighter, the glow encompassing a greater area, purifying her entire arm, most of her shoulder, and a segment of her abdomen. Aralyn cried out, not in pain or surprise, but relief. The pain fled from her eyes, the haze of fever fled.

"What is this?" Aralyn gasped, breathless.

The light and colors danced across Sephiroth's pale face, making fey colors dance mystically in the depths of his eyes. "Can't you see, Aralyn?" he asked. "The colors…the light…it's the same. Nadiya, you've found the Everglow!"

From the stone, beautiful notes began to play, a mystical jumble of harps, flutes, and high silver bells. The light retracted again, but exploded farther, enveloping Aralyn's entire being and most of Sephiroth and Aidan. When the last of the shadows were purged from Aralyn's body, it collapsed, their eyes seeing colors from the rapid shift from the exalting light to the dark of the cave. Then, one last time, the light expanded, encasing Sephiroth's entire family. Nadiya's wing righted itself, and the scars on Aidan's ankle lightened a shade and a half.

The edges of the light hardened, turned to a thin wall of diamond on all sides. They were all surrounded by the crystal, bathed in the warm, healing light. Streams of color danced around them all in forms as delicate and fragile as fairies, some as fleeting and rapid as lightning, others lingering to alight on the twins' shoulders, Aralyn and Sephiroth's clasped hands, and Aralyn's stomach where the baby lay safely and snugly housed.

Sephiroth watched his children play in the lights, dancing to a tune that played in their hearts instead of their ears. In his own ears rang a beat as strong and deep as a bass drum but as gentle as a flute.

Five beats, five _heart_beats, in tandem, as one.

The Everglow had seen something no one else had. The obvious thing would be if Aralyn had been encased and healed, perhaps Nadiya too, as her wing had been damaged, but it hadn't. Their whole family, all five of them, were in the light together. They had all been seen as wounded by the stone; it reminded him that they all had many types of healing they needed together.

_As a family_.

Sephiroth remembered when the old woman had first given him the vial of the Everglow extract, telling him how she wished she had the Everglow stone instead. While the drought could heal the body, she had said that the stone went beyond that.

_Soulshine_ and _Heartglow_ were the words she had used. Together, she said, they made the true and full Everglow.

Sephiroth looked at his children and his wife, noticing that in each of their breasts glowed a sphere of radiant light. He looked down to see he had one, too. A second smaller, but no less bright sphere resided in Aralyn's body, the heart of his unborn child.

_Heartglow_. And all around them, the dancing lights, the ethereal glow: _Soulshine_.

As his fears faded away, he knew that, at last, everything was going to be all right.

* * *

A/N: Okay, so Sephy and family are taken care of. Vinnie next.

As I was writing this at one-thirty this morning, the thought hit me that this isn't very Final Fantasy-ish. At least not seven... If you complain, I sympathize with you. Just think of the Everglow as a really souped up materia on steroids or something... _

I'm NOT bashing myself, by the way. I like what I wrote. And that's saying something. A lot of somethings.

And now for some business. I am going on a vacation. That leaves two options. One: I have wifi and I can post as normal. Two: I don't. I will bring my laptop and write regardless (I love writing by the ocean...). I may not be able to post until next week when we go back to a hotel that has wifi or home. So it might be a wait. Sorry.


	83. Surrender

Everglow - Chapter Eighty-Three

Vincent didn't know where he was.

It was so dark and quiet, perfect solitude. He was in so deep, but he couldn't remember what he was deep in. Memory, time, and thought had no place here. He couldn't remember who he was, why he was here, where he was…what exactly was he?

In the air that had no temperature, neither damp nor arid, thick nor thin, he drifted in something like serenity, but with a darker tint. Some kind of fear, a pain in his heart nagging at the perfectly formed tranquility…but why? It was so quiet and still…

That is, until he heard the scream.

One thought, one image came to his mind.

Two seraphic children, so young, so small and frail looking, both with silver hair. And a demon…a fiery monster, fangs bared, blood dripping from the lethal points down the pale jaw, eyes glowing with the anticipation of the hunt.

And a keening, pitiful scream of fear…so innocent and childlike…

The insubstantial air suddenly became thick water, pressing on him, making him gasp in a breath of the thick, black, consuming syrup. He wondered if he had breathed before the revelation, and assumed he hadn't, as he remembered no such sensation, but now his body yearned for air, and could not be satisfied.

He was forced to the surface. From some exhaustive effort, he seized his eyes back, sure that they were his even though he hadn't known it before.

No, not children, but a cave creature. The monster he floated in was tearing it limb from limb, devouring ravenously, but he could see the yellow hide, the size and shape of bones that could not be human. The scream, however, was very, very real.

Chaos had just gotten a little hungry, that's all.

So he was back, Vincent concluded, and the memories flowed. The children, Sephiroth and Aralyn, the islander woman and the boy who stayed at her side…

_Vivian_.

So now he remembered why he had exiled himself to oblivion. The tug to return there was unbearable. Why suffer with memory, with thought or sensation, when he could dwell in the sweet darkness of solitude?

He let the soft arms of nothingness enfold him and watched as spots grayed and then blackened his vision. His hearing became as if through a tunnel, and then muted into eventual silence. He felt feeling fade, his emotion and thought soon following.

Until a burst of searing pain ripped him from his sanctuary.

Chaos roared, infuriated, and began to flail about, but only managed to increase the pain. Another sharp push from behind and something broke through; moved from within him to pierce through him entirely. He clearly felt it leave his body.

Through Chaos's eyes, Vincent saw the head of a spear and a foot of the hilt, both dripping in dark blood.

Chaos fell to his knees, still snarling and writhing, but only managing to sink the weapon deeper into his own body. The clawed hands and strong wings that he thrashed found no target. With one last heave, their attacker forced Chaos to the ground on his side.

Vincent felt a foot placed on Chaos's back between the tattered wings, inches from where the spear had entered him. He knew what was coming.

The shadow behind rammed his heel into Chaos's back, kicking them so the tip of the base of the spearhead pricked two points beside the initial wound. Then, with a savage twist, their attacker ripped the weapon from the body.

Chaos, and therefore Vincent, was seeing red. He felt like he was looking through water, for the images before him swam in and out of focus as they tilted with no heed to gravity. Vincent tried again to escape, but Chaos charged the figure, snarling a feral oath.

The butt of the spear smacked him across his torso, the force causing a fierce sting. Chaos was against the wall, but did not take his eyes off the man.

Once Chaos stilled for only a few seconds to regain himself, Vincent was able to ascertain the identity of their assailant.

_Verian!_

"Can you hear me in there, Vincent?" Verian asked snidely. "I'd much rather we spoke in person but as things are…"

Chaos charged again, stupidly and rashly, only managing to impale himself a second time on the man's spear. This wound did not pierce him entirely, but sank deep into his abdomen.

"You ought to control this thing."

Blood was dripping from Chaos's lips, and he was out of his mind with rage. Vincent knew it wouldn't be long before Chaos made another mistake, and that he would keep making them until he died, taking Vincent down with him.

But was that such a bad thing? To be exiled to _true_, irreversible oblivion, where he could never be brought back, to be beyond any of this, any of the memories…

Verian retrieved his weapon and deftly leapt back. It was then that Vincent noticed that his arm was gone.

"Oh, a token from your friends," Verian said, catching Vincent's look. "But no matter. I will have my vengeance, and it won't be such a trivial matter as this!"

Chaos was no coward, and paid no heed to the searing wounds that leaked so freely. He would not give up until he was ripped to shreds and had no power to continue. Somehow he rose again, letting out a barking laugh as if to shake off the injury.

"I can do this all day," Verian challenged. "How much more do you want?"

Chaos flexed his leathery wings, rising to the low roof of the chamber. He made sure Verian was watching, then flew into the tunnels that connected the cave's chambers. Footsteps pounded behind him. Chaos grinned evilly. His prey was coming.

At the entrance of the chamber that glowed with mako light, Chaos abruptly turned, hoping to surprise the man. He did not expect Verian to be so close, though, neither did he think him strong enough to throw his spear…

It happened so quickly.

Chaos found himself spinning from the force of the spear with the end of the blade jutting out from his back. The velocity hurled him into the ground. He could not roll or counterattack, for the shaft projected out of his ribs. So he laid there on his side, licking the blood that was dripping from his lips.

Verian, smirking, walked up to him. With his foot, he pushed Chaos onto his back, forcing the blade to reenter his body.

"Having fun yet?" Verian sneered. He pulled up harshly, wrenching the spear from Chaos yet again. Chaos's back followed the blade, arching. Verian kicked Chaos in the side while he was still down and struggling to recover.

"Get up," he spat disgustedly. Chaos eagerly complied, feigning weakness, then leaping at Verian. The man was quick; Chaos could only slice his chest. Not to be beaten, he snarled and charged again. Verian was ready. He held his spear tightly as Chaos ran, ramming his chest into it, and then tore the demonic being off.

"Is that the best you have?" Verian goaded. "No _wonder_ Vivian is dead." Then, smiling, as an afterthought, he added, "Vega is too, you know. And Aralyn, Tali and that weasel that tags along with her, and the two brats of course, we had _so_ much fun together…"

The Vincent in Chaos cried out, but that only gave the beast more control, even greater dominance, until Vincent must have been so obscure to the demon that he couldn't have been sensed if he tried.

Verian ran into the chamber, expecting them to follow. Chaos took the bait, and Vincent marveled. How could this continue? Chaos's body was in ruin, he had sustained enough to kill multiple humans and any demon of reckonable strength. Vincent wanted to fall into the darkness, but Chaos charged on, defeat not on his mind.

Yazoo was franticly pacing a few yards away, his silhouette a nervous presence. And Vega…she was so still.

"No!" It was Vincent who cried, but Chaos's voice that rang out.

A flame was rekindled in Vincent. Perhaps he should only go on a little longer…just long enough for Verian to pay…

And then, at last…at _long_ last… he could rest for eternity.

Vincent fused his strength with Chaos's, and the pair lashed out at Verian.

"Oh _yes_," Verian chuckled, sidestepping the charge with ease. He sauntered over to Vega and rammed his spear through her. Chaos's keen eyes clearly saw the impact of the spearhead with the ground, piercing through earth and rock. Vega neither cried out nor stirred.

"You see? She's quite dead. Another life you _could_ have saved. Tell me, exactly how many does that make now?"

Yazoo was finally jarred from his stupor by the noise of the conflict. He turned, confused at first, then enraged as he saw the body of the woman he loved desecrated by the bloodied weapon. Furious, he drew Velvet Nightmare, but the shaft of Verian's spear collided with his head before he could fire, and he fell unconscious, his body folding over Vega's.

Chaos flew up to the high ceiling, then dove down. Verian swiped his spear at the blur of red, resulting in a long gash from Chaos's abdomen to his shoulder.

Chaos did manage to grab the spear and hefted it to the other side of the cavern, beyond Verian's reach. Undaunted, Verian produced a bejeweled scimitar from a slender scabbard at his belt, the curved blade gleaming menacingly.

The next time it swung, it found Chaos's thin, webbed wings, tearing through the translucent skin as easily as fine silk. Chaos fell to the ground at last, landing awkwardly, immobilized and stunned. And then Chaos was struck once more, with only three hair-thin streaks of red on Verian's cheeks as his feeble revenge.

This blow hit his right shoulder, sinking deep. Vincent felt the bone shatter like glass, and his whole arm was on fire. Verian had drawn an unearthly screech from the monster, too foreign to be called a scream.

And then Chaos was gone. Something had persuaded him to give it up.

Now it was Vincent that was skewered on Verian's scimitar.

"Ah, there you are," Verian said softly. Then, mockingly, "What, your little pet couldn't take it all for you, hmm?"

Vincent's head was bowed, his shoulders heaving with every breath, shuddering as the action moved his impaired shoulder. Verian growled and twisted the blade and the bone shards pierced muscle like a thousand hot knives. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Vincent did not comply, just sat there limply. Verian's rage flared and he flung him across the room. He landed on his back, crumpled, lacking the strength and will to rise.

"Fight me!" Verian roared. "Face me like a man!"

Vincent offered no response in either movement or sound.

"…Well, we'll just do this the slow way, then, shall we?" Verian knelt at his side and seized his collar, jerking him up.

"Perhaps I won't kill you," Verian mused softly. "Perhaps I'll take you to my palace in Bellarieve. You have a strong back; you would make a fine slave. I could get a pretty penny for you…" He frowned. "I would love for you to see what I have in store for my Gloria Dawn, for you to see the altar…."

He pulled away and shrugged. "No, Vincent, you've been too much trouble for me from the beginning. I think I'll finish this here. Are you ready to die?"

Vincent looked up for the first time, showing eyes dull with pain and fogged with anguish. There was no spark, no life, just two ruddy pools to nothingness.

He was still breathing, but he had been dead long before.

He awaited the final blow in submissive silence. He laid back and, for the first time in his life, utterly and completely surrendered.

He was finished.

* * *

A/N: I'm baAaAaAAAAck! Anybody miss me? Probably not after this.

Which is why I will post the NEXT chapter NOW! :3


	84. Heartgift

Everglow - Eighty-Four

_The angel still glided through the caverns, hurt on her ethereal features. Her perfect shoulders shook with the weight of indecision. Tali she had taken; there was no other way, but now her son was crying for death as well. As she often reached for others, he was reaching for her, praying for release._

_It was not his time, that she knew, but how long could she allow him to suffer? His destiny was not fulfilled…there was much work he still had ahead of him that would span many long years. With Chaos, his body should have sustained him into the eternities, but here he was, begging that his immortality be taken from him. _

_Would she defy fate to grant this sweet rest he sought?_

_At first her answer had been a vehement 'no'. She had drifted away, though no distance would separate her from what was happening to him. She would not take him; she could not. Pain was a part of mortality; and as she could not alleviate it, she turned away. She could not interfere with destiny. _

_…Or could she?_

_Her wanderings took her to where the woman called Vivian lay. Her eyes were wide with wonder as she watched the family enveloped in the Everglow. Though control over her body had not returned, she was struggling to join them. The woman could hear the song that played in the woman's heart and felt the longing. Why shouldn't she be allowed to join? Had she not suffered too?_

_But that was another matter over which she could have no control._

_Instead, she willed herself into the mortal dimension, feeling the weight that she had not experienced since her own death. To be substantial was such a burden, and she hadn't done it for so long, that it came as quite a shock. She was forced to take time to regain herself, though she knew that each second Vincent bled closer to death. _

_When at last it was done and she could stand, she looked at Vivian again. The woman was covering her eyes with her arms, curling into herself. The angel sighed. Yet another complication. To dim her own light would be a chore, but it must be done if she were to speak properly with this mortal, to instruct her on what to do. She must be informed, if only minimally, in order for her to do what she could not._

_"Vivian," the woman called. The mortal responded, her pupils tiny black dots from the severe light, but at least her eyes could withstand it. _

_"…who…?"_

_Slowly, the woman reached forward. She was a bit nervous herself; for millennia, all whom she had touched had died, it was her duty. Could this being withstand her touch and live?_

_The solution came soon enough. She stopped mid-way, her arm half extended. She saw the beginnings of a young tear in the corner of the mortal's eye._

_Perfect, she thought, for what she had to do. It was pure and clear, charged with emotions that were powerful and righteous. The tear would make a fine chalice for her gift._

_She cupped her hand, then carefully gathered the tear, careful not to so much as graze the woman's skin. The tiny diamond solidified and began to glow on her fingertip. The woman smiled and blew her gift onto the gem. The light retreated into the case, but did not fade, and if anything, intensified._

_"Vivian, you must give this to Vincent." _

_With that, she sent the jewel into the mortal's body, into a region she believed humans called the heart. It would be warm there, and nursed until it was time to be given._

_She was forced to leave the dimension; gravity was becoming a tremendous burden and others were calling her. She took one last look at the mortal, who stared at the blank space in front of her, baffled. She looked for what she was to convey to the man, but found nothing. She sighed, knowing that the mortal might never know that the gift was within her now, not something material. _

_She hoped that she would learn that soon enough to save Vincent's life._

_Knowing she had done all she could, she left the cave entirely. She could remain no longer. Vivian had to do this alone._

* * *

Vivian's arm was pinched hard, but she couldn't do anything about it. Her eyes were not adjusted to the dark, leaving fleeting spots of color. She couldn't turn her neck to see what was hurting her, as it was held in a tight grip. Something pierced her jugular too, but was quickly attended to.

"That should do it," a man's voice murmured.

The stuff felt like fire, flooding her body from the puncture wounds and outward, but when it passed, she felt slightly cooler than normal, even shivering a little from the unexpected chill.

But then she could move. Full mobility was restored in seconds. Then a small, calloused hand rubbed something on her ribs and arms, and she felt the broken bones rejoin and fuse flawlessly and without pain. She felt like she had arisen from a cool pond, clean and refreshed.

"Your glasses," the man said, holding the mended spectacles back to her. She accepted them gratefully and slid them over her eyes as she sat.

The small, hunched scientist that always tagged along with Hojo was at her side, two empty syringes in his hand. If she remembered right, his name was Dr. Malv.

"You…!" she hissed, backing away. "What do you want?"

The man shuffled backward, dropping the syringes, holding his hands up to show he was unarmed. "…Mainly, to apologize, Miss Vivian."

That took her aback. The singing notes of the Everglow were fading, perhaps the family would soon emerge. The scientist's eyes darted to Sephiroth's form in the bubble of light and back nervously, he began to wring his hands.

"I-I'd rather we did this before S-Sephiroth…"

Vivian didn't feel too threatened after that. He was more terrified than she was. The pitiful man looked like a deer in the headlights; he was jittery in anxiety and swallowing hard, the motions of his throat both visible and audible.

"My daughter," the man panted, he was sweating now as the Everglow's walls began to thin, "s-she was your age when your m-mother…"

Vivian was suddenly all ears, but rage made her clench her fists, and she knew that her cheeks and the tips of her ears were red. The man saw this and shriveled.

"H-Hojo made me work for him! It wasn't m-my fault! I didn't want to do…w-what I d-d-did." He swallowed and gulped in air, his face pale, beads of sweat rolling from his forehead.

"My little girl…she was a friend of your mother's…she's the one who compiled the l-letter…" He licked his lips and grimaced, gulping again. "When Hojo killed her, I took over the job."

Vivian remembered the handprint of blood on the manila envelope, how it was stuffed full of heavy photo paper and letters. "Evidence of the twins," Vivian concluded. "So you did those things to them?"

"No! I m-mean…not directly…I never actually held the s-scalpel…but I…"

"You could watch as they were tortured?" Vivian demanded, furious now. "You could photograph it?"

The man hung his head and sobbed. "My little girl…she—"

The notes were almost gone, one last fermata held as the chord faded away. The man let out a choked scream of hysteria. "I d-don't want trouble! I came to say I'm sorry! I'm not proud of what I did! _I'm_ _sorry_!"

Vivian didn't know how she was supposed to feel. On one hand, here was a man who had held the power to save the children years ago, but watched idly instead, taking pictures when appropriate. On the other, this pitiful wreck of a man was just that…a wreck. He regretted what he had allowed to happen, she saw that he truly did, and that was the sign of a good heart, right?

"Just go," Vivian said quietly.

The man needed no further prompting. He scurried away like a frightened mouse, scampering back to the light.

"Who was that?" Sephiroth asked. She noted how his voice was clearer, more steady.

Vivian thought a while. "No one of significance. Let him go."

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow suspiciously, but neither questioned her further nor followed the retreating man.

She would tell him some other time, but not now.

* * *

A/N: Opinions on Malv would be muchly appreciated. Opinions in general are welcomed. Yes, you may rip my head off. It's hideous anyway...but before you do, consider that I need my head to write more...?


	85. Heaven's Door

Everglow - Chapter Eighty-Five

He could feel his life dripping away. Even if Verian did not damage him further, he would bleed himself dry as his lifeblood deserted him through the chasms in his body. To breathe was a chore, and though his conscious mind told him that it was finished and not worth the effort, the last spark of instinct kept him going. With every little breath he took his broken bones flared, a pain that he was able to do increasingly little about.

Verian loomed over him, pacing before him, his chin in his hand contemplatively. He murmured things to himself, things that can't have been good for Vincent.

"So Vincent Valentine falls," Verian mumbled, but at a level where Vincent. could hear. "Alone in his weakness. Forgotten."

None of these things meant anything to him. When had he not been alone? When he was in so much pain, it was easy to think of the long hours locked in a coffin, or grieving at Lucrecia's grave, or the sleepless, restless nights where memories tormented him. Even before he had been experimented on and turned into a demon, he normally stood alone.

But even with all this, he remembered a kind, extraordinary nurse with glasses, who had been unafraid, who looked beyond his frightening exterior and saw something more.

But it didn't matter. She was gone.

Vincent's agony deepened. He clenched his fists and groaned from the depths of his heart, had he possessed the strength he might have screamed in anguish. The emotional pain was almost physical. His emptiness consumed him.

And Verian laughed. _Laughed_, long and hard, his head back, his shoulders heaving with the mocking guffaws. Vincent was filled with the poison sound; he couldn't hear or even sense nothing else.

"Let's see," Verian began slowly, "if this demon even has a heart to pierce."

And he was run through one final time.

The precious breath that was sustaining him left him in a rush as the steel breached his chest. A deep, breathless sound emanated from his throat, a long groan of the dying. He knew that, logically, he should bleed, but he could feel no blood. Perhaps he had nothing left to bleed. Perhaps his heart had stopped. He did not know. He could not care.

Blackness began to seep into the edges of his vision. He felt something drip from his eyes, tears of release, as he turned his eyes to the heavens, seeing the stars, though all that was before him was the roof of the cave. He gasped once, twice, knowing that the end was nigh…

Verian was ripped from his fading vision.

It was so abrupt that Vincent forgot to breathe. He skipped a breath to avert his energy to turning his head. It was a slow process that hurt immensely, but some part of him had to know. Would someone avenge the fallen for him?

He saw silver, flowing silver, and a flashing blade taller than the shadowed man who wielded it. He caught brief sight of two bright green orbs, glowing not only with mako, but rage. Somehow he felt that he knew this man, but he couldn't remember a name. Seth---Seph---something?

He wanted to thank the silver warrior, but he had no breath left to speak. Thinking that surely he could at least manage this last act of gratitude, he tried to draw in air, only to find that in his rest from breathing, he had lost the capability. He could no longer breathe if he wanted to.

He was minutes, if not seconds, from death. He had only what little air was left in his lungs for the rest of his life. His chest began to burn for want of breath. He had lost feeling in his hands up to his wrists and his legs up to his knees. This was it. He was fading.

Behind the man with the silver hair, he made out another figure.

At first he thought her a stone, for she was so still, until he saw the look in her wide eyes and knew that she was petrified with horror. She was bent on her knees, a hand over her gaping mouth, perhaps to keep from crying out.

The woman shakily rose, stumbling toward him. Her breathing was ragged, as if she had just run a long ways. She seemed fatigued, weak with shock and disbelief. Many times she leaned on the wall to support her.

She collapsed at his side. Her shoulders quivered. She was barely restraining heavy sobs by biting her lip.

"Vincent?" she whispered, fearfully, then wailed frantically, "Vincent, Vincent _no_!"

He felt his lips pull upward into a small but genuine smile. So this was heaven, and how _beautiful_ she was. His angel was here, with him, beside him.

Breathily rasping, he sighed, "Vi—vi—an…" He tried to reach up, but his hand was unsteady and only half responsive, shaking violently. It was like he was lifting a cut of meat rather than a limb.

She took his hand, hugged it to her heart, encircling it with both arms, cradling it. How odd that the both of them still seemed material, solid and wreathed in mortality. Perhaps he hadn't died yet after all. Perhaps the transition was so speedy that he never would know a difference.

"Hold on," she pleaded. "Please…."

He moved his fingers up a little, and with her assistance, felt her warm cheek. He hadn't thought the spirits of the dead could be so _warm…_ "Viv—i—"

The cold dark rushed in quickly, and he felt himself pulled away.

Through the dark tunnel Vivian's screams echoed.

"_No!! Vincent…NO!"_

He felt as if he had been lanced through. The angel shouldn't be distressed. It was wrong…so very wrong…

* * *

A/N: It took me forever because I didn't want to leave you here. Go to next chapter!


	86. Breathe

Everglow - Chapter Eighty-Six

She had arrived only in time to see the blade of silver, to witness the point thrust into Vincent's heart.

She heard the breath leave him in a rush, watched him fold over the blade, then fall limply back, the scimitar still deep in his breast. There was little blood; most of it already pooled around him in dark rivers.

She didn't even hear herself scream, but she knew she must have. Sephiroth had quickly grabbed her, using all his strength to restrain her from running forward.

She had struggled, scratched, hit, kicked and bitten him in attempt to get away. In her blind frenzy she had drawn his blood, maimed his sleeve and glove so they were rendered near useless. She battered his shins with her heels, not thinking of the pain she was causing him, but he did not fight back, only bound her tighter. Disbelief and hurt danced in his own eyes, betraying the feeling beyond the somber, grave mask.

When she had screamed until she couldn't feel her throat and fought until the task had left her empty, he released her, letting her fall to her knees as he leapt forward to take care of the grinning Verian.

She saw the villain vanish before Sephiroth's sword could reach him, but it didn't register that Vincent's murderer would go unpunished. After her initial rage, she began to feel light-headed, then numb. She could not contain any emotion right now, especially one as heavy as vengeance.

Vincent was far from still. His chest and stomach rose in erratic intervals, and horrible choking gasps came from his throat. Frequent tremors racked him painfully. The blade still stood, proud and mocking, from his chest, perpendicular to his body.

Vivian wouldn't let herself think that it was over, only concentrated on moving to him.

She was horrified to feel wetness soak her knees and dress as she knelt at his side. Instinctively, she looked down, only to see the dark blood. Bile rose in her throat, but she choked it back. Cruelly, her instincts took her sight to his maimed body, she could not withhold a scream.

Sephiroth came then, took her shoulders, and gently tried to guide her away. She jerked herself from his grip. She knew he was only trying to protect her from this, but she needed to be here for him. Respectfully, he backed away, taking his place as a silent, somber witness.

She turned her eyes to his face. Despite the ruin his body was in, his face was left untouched except for the fringes of onyx hair that glimmered a wet red at the ends. His skin was smooth and pale, his lips parted slightly. If it weren't for the darkness in his half-closed, scarlet eyes, she might have convinced herself that all was as it was before.

In those last seconds that lasted forever and yet were far too short, he had called her name, he had reached for her, stroked her cheek, and he had smiled softly in release.

His body gave one last jerk and his eyes fell closed. One last sigh made it past his lips. It was his last.

* * *

Sephiroth was by her as the breath escaped Vincent at last. His body stilled, and his arm, now limp, fell from her grasp to fall to the earth. It made no difference. Either way, if she held him or not, he was far and forever beyond her grasp.

"Bind him." The order was curt and quick, succeeding Vincent's passing before grief would render Vivian useless. She tore her gaze from Vincent to see that Sephiroth held strips of cloth in his hands. They were a clear, royal blue, as deep as the ocean. With so many things going through her mind, it took her a while to recognize it as the fabric that made Tali and Andrite's robes.

"The boy donated his," Sephiroth explained. "So we won't have to lose two lives tonight." That was all the explanation he offered. He then quickly but accurately put a hand under Vincent's back, lifting his middle so he could tie the strips all the way around him. When Vincent's corpse was lying on the fabric, he brought the two ends together and tied it rapidly, so tightly that Vivian distinctly heard ribs crack.

"Stop it!" Vivian cried, pushing Sephiroth's hands away from her fallen beloved. "You'll hurt him!"

Sephiroth pulled away, but frowned deeply, suddenly enraged. "Vivian, cracked ribs are nothing compared to what will happen if he loses what little blood remains. Bones will heal but this…!" His voice was frigid, and she shied away, frightened. He closed his eyes, knowing he had been too harsh. His face and tone softened.

"I'm asking you to be a nurse now, not his lover or his friend. You must do what has to be done. Lament later, give him morphine when we get him help, but if he is to live, he must suffer a little more, assuming he isn't already beyond feeling."

Vivian stared at him blankly, her thoughts swimming. Slowly, fluidly, she turned her eyes to Vincent's face.

"If it's too much for you, I will do it." Sephiroth offered.

"No…no…you're right," Vivian whispered. Without another word, she took some fabric from Sephiroth.

Her mind was too troubled and her hands too clumsy to do much. Her knots slipped and were never tight enough. Sephiroth nodded sympathetically, took the fabric from her gently, and motioned her away. But she couldn't go. She didn't want to leave him like this.

Sephiroth's hand reached for the hilt of the scimitar. Vivian choked and averted her eyes, instinctively clutching Vincent's cold hand, but she could still hear the blade as it was drawn from his body. Sephiroth threw it aside like the vile thing it was. Oh, how Vivian hated that blade; the blade that had felled Vincent Valentine.

"Vivian," Sephiroth called at last. She turned back to him, then looked down.

Vincent looked too different. Wrong. Sephiroth had removed the band of red that had encircled his brow and kept his hair back, as it was material that could be put to use as bandages. His hair spilled without the restraint, streaking his face in shadow. The rich, royal blue looked so wrong against his red cloak and black attire, even though the bandages were gradually becoming darker and darker shades as she watched, more and more like the black. His hair freely spilling, his shirt in tatters, he looked disheveled and restless. His skin was the color of chalk, and glossed with a cold, clammy moistness.

She couldn't weep now, she reminded herself.

Sephiroth hefted the man onto his back, and Vincent's head lolled back. Vivian gently righted it so his neck rested on Sephiroth's armored shoulder.

"Can you get us out of here?" Vivian asked.

Sephiroth frowned. "His weight is nothing to me. What I'm concerned about is how the rough terrain and my speed will affect him." He tilted his head back toward the man he supported.

"Fly," she urged. "It's smoother and quicker…just leave me behind. I'll get out on my own."

"No, that wouldn't be wise." He offered no explanation, though Vivian could not follow his rationale. "Come...quickly!"

Vivian took Vincent's hand. "Stay," she said softly but commandingly. With that, the pair began their voyage to the land above the earthen caverns, wondering if Vincent would live to see the sun again.

* * *

A/N: ..............

Next chapter: Voyage to the Overworld

Next Next Chapter: Malv's Redemption


	87. Voyage to the Overworld

Everglow - Chapter Eighty-Seven

The journey out of the cave was long and arduous in and of itself, but worry warped Vivian's sense of time until it was an unbearable eternity of uncertainty and despair. She knew that Sephiroth was quick; she saw his feet fly rapidly but gracefully and felt the burn in her side as she struggled to keep pace with him over the rough terrain, but never in her life had she felt time so greatly stretched.

She knew that they never would have made it out of the cave if it hadn't been for Sephiroth. Not only was the distance far too great for her to carry Vincent, but (she shuddered at the thought) the rough flooring would have killed him had she been forced to drag him. In the rooms where there was no light, she relied on Sephiroth's eyes to lead, as she was utterly blind. She also had to put faith in his sense of direction, as she had been hopelessly lost since they had entered the caves all those days ago.

Besides being an expert guide and strong enough to sustain Vincent's weight, he seemed keenly attuned to Vincent's condition. When he dared, he increased the speed, if only a little, so long as he was sure that Vincent's frame could take it. If his condition fell, even by the slightest degree, they slowed.

It was a fine, thin line to walk; balancing precious speed against Vincent's endurance, but she couldn't think of a finer judge than Sephiroth.

Which made her feel useless. It was a petty, perhaps selfish emotion when Vincent was in such dire need, but she still ached to do _something_, to help if only a little…

"He's waking," Sephiroth said. His strong voice caught her off guard; the whole time he had been silent, his eyes focused completely forward, dead and gravely set on his task. He still didn't turn his eyes to Vivian. "I can feel his heartbeat shifting."

Vivian nodded, though Sephiroth probably didn't see her, and began to softly call. "Vincent," she said, trying to sound at least decent rather than hurt and despairing. "Can you hear me? It's me, Vivian. I'm here." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

She felt him return a little pressure in return, however feeble it might have been. He exhaled slowly but inhaled sharply, as if pained, whereas before his breathing had been indecipherable. It was a startling change. Sephiroth's speed dropped dramatically; he was worried too, which did not ease Vivian's own fears.

His eyes opened slowly, still the same fire-amber color, but so distant and unseeing. He blinked a few times. In a deep, pained groan, he called back. "Vivian…" he breathed it so slowly, his voice so fluid and unfocused. It was so unlike him…

"Can you see me?" Vivian asked.

"…barely…you're so…far away…."

She reached up, desperate to reach him somehow, and rested her warm palm on his cheek. "Can you _feel_ me?"

"…yes…"

"Can you hear me?"

He began to answer, but words turned to an anguished groan. His eyes rolled back and then closed. His shoulders and back were heaving. Sephiroth came to a complete halt, fearing to move him an inch more.

"No!" Vivian said quickly. "Vincent, fight it! Stay with me! Stay awake! I _know_ you can!"

The change was not instant, but after a long struggle, Vincent fell limp. He was breathing, if not regularly or without pain. His eyes opened, and Vivian watched as his pupils adjusted to the dim light. She knew that he was trying to find her, trying to focus. After a while, his gaze became steady. Perhaps he had found her.

"You promise to stay?" Vivian asked.

"…I..."

Sephiroth began to walk again, very slowly, but at least they were moving.

Vincent was silent for a long while, but Vivian trusted that he was alive. She watched him carefully, measuring the time between when his eyes fell closed and when he woke again. Sometimes it was seconds, sometimes minutes, once, it must have been hours. She bit her lip and waited for him to drift awake again, fearing the worst. She dared not ask Sephiroth, and feared even worse that soon he would speak the words that would shatter her very existence.

But he always awoke, whether jolted or peacefully slipped out of his dreams, and searched her out before anything else. After one of his longer periods of sleep, his gaze no longer wandered.

He spoke one simple word.

"How?"

Vivian shook her head. He sighed and struggled to continue. "How…am I…here? With you?"

"What do you mean, Vincent?"

"…in heaven. How…am I here too?"

Blood rushed to Vivian's cheeks as she grasped his meaning. He thought he was dead, but thought that he couldn't possibly have been permitted into heaven under any circumstances, and so was confused. She was suddenly very, very angry. If he hadn't been so weak, confused, and helpless, she would have slapped him good and hard. As it was, she resolved to do it later when he was somewhat better.

_When_ he was better, she promised herself.

"Vincent Valentine…you…!" She had to turn away from him she was so overcome with emotion. Her eyes burned and stung. "How can you still think that of yourself?"

Vincent blinked, but couldn't answer.

"_If_ you were dead, the most seraphic angels would have welcomed you like a king for all the good you've done. Vincent, how can you not _see_?" She laughed once to hide a choked sob. "What can I do to _make_ you see?"

"…then where…?"

"We're still in the caves, Vincent," Vivian said, grateful for the change of topic and the opportunity to gather herself. "We're getting you out. We'll get you help. You're going to be fine."

"…but you're here..."

"Exactly," Vivian said, glad that at least that had gotten through. "I'm here and you're going to be all right."

"…but you are dead." Something indescribably dark and painful flashed in his eyes. "I saw you."

Vivian stopped, taken aback. She had forgotten. "Vincent, I'm not dead. Hojo came and found me; he gave me something that made me look dead, but it was really just a very deep sleep. Then Kadaj…well, you saw. He must have made it look…very convincing. I know how he put the knife by my hand to look like I killed myself over you, I heard and felt everything, but I didn't. I'm so sorry, I can't imagine what it must have looked like. It was an awful, evil trick."

"…you're alive?"

"Yes. And you are too. Everything is going to be all right."

As Sephiroth rounded a corner, a new kind of darkness met Vivian's eyes. This black was softer, more gentle, and less compressing and overpowering than the velvet oblivion of the cave. This darkness was flecked with twinkling lights, and a gentle silver glow of a full washed the ground. The air all at once was lighter, and smelled less of earth and minerals. A soft breeze caressed Vivian and played lithely with her hair.

They were out.

And not too far off, red and blue lights flicked blindingly, the sirens of multiple ambulances sounding loud and strong. Many figures in white hurried quickly about the vehicles; a small army of medics waiting for Vincent. Vivian saw a silver stretcher lowered by two nurses, who called to others and rushed toward them. Vivian counted ten, and that did not count the ones who had stayed to ready the equipment.

Help had arrived.

They were surrounded almost immediately, first by their friends. Not only Cloud, but all of Avalanche had gathered at the mouth of the cave, worried about their comrade and friend. When they emerged into the moonlight, revealing the full extent of Vincent's condition, Vivian watched in silence as every single face paled and sobered. Cloud pulled Yuffie back, who had rushed to greet them with a thousand questions in her eyes, and let them carry Vincent toward help in silence.

A little farther off, Aralyn and the silver-haired twins were gathered by Zack, who stood on his haunches, tense, ears erect. Nadiya was the first to see the man on her father's back. She stood in stunned horror only for a moment before she burst into tears.

Aralyn swept her up and averted Nadiya's eyes, whispering soothing words to the trembling girl who would not receive them while at the same time staring in shock at her husband. Aidan was deathly pale, eyes wide with fear and disbelief. Sephiroth reacted as if his load had become heavier upon seeing the grief of his children and the pain of his wife. To see such a dear and faithful friend who had done so much for the entire family hurt to this dire extent was a heavy burden to shoulder. If Vincent should die, his death would be excruciating for all of them.

Vivian wished Vincent was coherent enough to see all these people who cared so deeply for him. There was Avalanche, every member of which was his brother-in-arms. Then there was Sephiroth, who owed his life and the lives of his family to him, and his wife and children, who had known him as a faithful and valiant friend. Lucrecia stood by, a deep love in her eyes behind the sorrow. The whole of Gaia would grieve for the man who had fought to save their world.

She wished that Vincent knew how much he was loved.

The stretcher was set before Sephiroth, and the medics worked the wounded man off his back, careful not to jostle any part of him. Slowly, they slid him onto the white-padded stretcher, gently laying him flat. Red stained the pristine sheets almost immediately, dripping lazily from the edges.

As they began to wheel him away, Vincent opened his eyes. He sought out Vivian, and found her by his side.

"Vincent," Vivian said, gasping as she ran to keep up with the rolling stretcher as it was wheeled by the medics back to the ambulance. "You can sleep now. But you have to _promise_ to me that you won't go any deeper than sleep."

There were many who were ready for him. Some held bared IV needles, one carried an oxygen mask, and still others held countless monitors and probes prepared to be attached to him. He became surrounded, enclosed by people in white who spoke quickly, urgently as they worked.

"I am sorry, ma'am," one of the nurses said, taking her shoulder and trying to guide her away. "You can't come nearer."

But she pushed towards him anyway. When she broke through the ranks of the medics he was already attached to many machines, multiple wires running into and out of his body. He met her eyes and smiled softly, then whispered the two final words of his answer before they ripped him from her and sealed him within the ambulance.

"I swear."

* * *

A/N: I gave up my nap time to write this. YAAAaaaAAAaaawn.

Next Chapter: Malv's Redemption

Next Next chapter: The Spark (a word of warning, this is where Vincent's fight for his life will climax.)


	88. Malv's Redemption

Everglow - Chapter Eighty-Eight

Yazoo was drowning, helpless against waves of emotion, lacking the strength to fight against it, gasping and choking but never receiving air.

Together, the two had cheated death multiple times. Through all their adventures, they had always escaped. Not unscathed, certainly, but never, ever had either of them been entirely unable to awaken. Together, they were stronger than they ever had been alone. They were unstoppable. Death was a shadow to deftly dodge every now and again, flitting in and out of memory, sometimes darkening horizons, but dawn always came. They were something like a shield to each other; together, there was no vulnerability. Death could not puncture such a barrier.

Or so Yazoo had been led to believe.

He had panicked at first, true, but still held himself relatively composed. This had happened before. It would be all right. He had gently rubbed her back, trying to stimulate her lungs and heart, speaking softly to her as if she was alive.

He had waited for hours. He waited more. He would wait for an eternity.

A stream that burst clear from a shining rock was not too far away; he could hear the happy bubbling. Perhaps Vega would like a sip of water, he thought. Gently lying her down and assuring her that he would be back, he had strayed a little ways off, gathering the cold, sweet water in his cupped hands. He moved slowly, careful not to spill a drop.

He returned in time to see Verian's spear pierce her.

The water spilled from his hands into the thirsty ground beneath as he reached for his Velvet Nightmare, his grip on the slick metal tight despite the wetness of his hands, his finger on the trigger steady and sure. He was so furious that he was literally seeing red, a deep crimson-violet unlit by the soft glow of the cavern's crystals.

He charged the man, but Verian had caught the side of his head with the shaft of his spear. His ears rang, then there was darkness.

"_How?" _he thought when he had gained enough consciousness to maneuver around the mist. With all the years of fighting, with all his skill, why had his body failed him now? How had he been weakened enough to be caught by such a crude blow? He was better, by far, than that.

_…weakened by grief…_

No sooner had he thought it than he brushed the thought aside. His mind was as clear as a bell's peal on a winter morning. Everything was fine. Vega would wake, (perhaps weakened, but that would give him an excuse to cradle her close as he carried her), and they would go back to the sunlight. Life as they knew it would go on.

Perhaps she was awake now. He had slept a while, maybe she was impatiently waiting for him.

She wasn't. Instead, she was stiff as a statue, her lips lavender, and beneath her fingernails a bluish-black.

It hit him like a ton of bricks. Suddenly he folded. Screams tore from his lips, but he couldn't hear them.

Thoughts, bitter, searing truth, tore at him like knives, searing away his soul.

This time was different.

This time she wasn't coming back.

This time, Vega was _dead_.

* * *

He spent all his energy into grieving. It was an exhausting, draining process, and left him feeling like an empty shell. He laid over Vega's still, cold body, neither thinking nor feeling, barely breathing. It was a long time, perhaps eternity, before he could draw himself to his knees. Despite the fact that there was little blood, he forced himself to bandage her. The fact that his torn leather did not even appear to be wet only made him feel worse.

While still numb, his thoughts came back; thoughts that he had lived in fear of since the day he had met her, ones he would not ever allow himself to ask because there simply would _never_ be a need…

_Where will I bury her?_

He choked a little, but his tears were gone, his supply quite exhausted. When he regained himself, the answer was strikingly clear. On a mountaintop, he reasoned, the tallest mountain he could scale. Far, far from the filthy, polluted city of Midgar, so she could better see the stars and sleep beneath the moonlight, so she could be nearer to _her_ star: Vega, which was among the brightest in the night sky. It would be quiet up there, peaceful and serene, and she could look down on the beauty of the world beneath her. Hidden, surely, from the rest of the world, so she could rest undisturbed.

Yazoo knew how to handle neither wood nor stone, but he knew that he would make her coffin and gravestone with his own two hands. Perhaps they would not be as beautiful or ornate as some, but he somehow knew that Vega would have wanted it that way. They could be his final gifts to her. Humble, perhaps, but made with a heart overflowing.

The ring he had given her glinted in the crystal-light, bright silver inlaid with small diamonds and a living, fiery sapphire. He hadn't wanted his proposal to go this way. He would rather have been alone for the rest of his life, knowing that Vega lived, than have heard her fervent acceptance before her life ended.

Neither of them had spoken of marriage even once, despite all they had been through together. Yazoo had waited a long time, battling uncertainties that only multiplied in number every time she had looked at him. When he had finally made up his mind, and hunted down the perfect ring, his weakness had begun to set in.

That had put a halt to everything. He would not have Vega accept the devotions of a dying man. He had kept the ring with him, unsure of what to do with it. Should he give it to her as a final gift, or would such a memento only bring her pain?

He had been at peace, even knowing he was condemned to die. Vega was a strong young woman. She would be hurt, yes, but her will to carry on surprised him more every time he witnessed it. Zack and Aerith still held influence after their death; he had resolved to do the same. He would find a good man, someone who would take care of her and make her truly happy, and guide him to her. He didn't want her to be alone. It would all work out flawlessly. He would ensure that his death was only a little glitch in her happiness.

But _he_ was the one who was supposed to die.

And over it all, the one thought loomed.

_She did it for _me.

She sacrificed her life, the one thing in this world that had meant everything to him. His purpose was gone. He had never been so lost or aimless, not even when he had blindly followed Jenova for all of those dark years.

Yazoo had never been so very alone.

* * *

Footsteps intruded into his solitude, jarring him from his thoughts.

With his senses fresh and keen with pain, his body coiled with grief, his gun was in his hand in an instant, a flawless draw, his sight clear and focused. "Who's there?" he demanded.

In return, a distinctly canine growl came, followed by the soft padding of paws. Thirdly, the whimper of a child, and the reassurance of a mother. "Yazoo?" he recognized Aralyn's clear voice. "Is that you?"

Yazoo relaxed and slowly slid the gun into the holster at his hip.

"Thank you," Aralyn said. "Your gun just startled Zack and frightened Nadiya, that's all. No harm done." She listened in silence for a while, perhaps sensing the tension. "Yazoo, what's wrong?"

"It's Vega…. She's gone." He didn't know how she had heard him, for he had barely whispered it, but he heard her sharp gasp.

"But…I'm fine! She should have been healed too!"

"No…no, it didn't work. It's over."

Aralyn came quickly and knelt at his side, putting a caring hand on his shoulder and squeezing gently. Before she ever examined Vega, she met his eyes for a moment, conveyed sympathy and concern.

"How?" she asked, mortified, as her fingers probed the gash in her abdomen. "She didn't have this when I saw her last."

"Verian," Yazoo brokenly seethed. "He did this to her, even when she was down." His voice was silent, searing venom as he spoke next. "I hope Sephiroth and Vincent made him suffer."

Aralyn hesitated, at a loss of what to do.

"Aralyn," Yazoo asked, "will you leave us alone for a while?"

She nodded. "Yazoo," she breathed, taking his hand. "I am so…so sorry."

He turned his gaze back to Vega, unable to reply as Aralyn rose to her feet. Zack, sensing what had happened, raised his jaw and let out a long, sorrowful peal.

"Hey, in here!" An unfamiliar voice called out. "They went this way!"

"I heard the wolf!"

"_Hurry!_"

Seven distinct flashlight beams penetrated the darkness, catching them all by surprise. They shielded their eyes with their palms and stifled cries.

"Turn the light down!"

"But sir, the girl…we'll need…"

"_Now_."

"Yes, sir."

Five lights flickered off entirely, the remaining two dimmed to a bearable level. After a moment, they could all open their watery eyes.

About ten tall figures stood in the cavern with them, their long coats of pressed white fabric covering the sea-green medical scrubs of surgeons. All the faces of the people were covered with surgical masks, their hair either short or pulled back in a tight bun. Ten pairs of intelligent, calculating eyes immediately began to analyze the situation.

The eyes of the tallest man, the one who led the group, softened as he saw Vega. "Ah…are we too late?" His voice was deep and sorrowful.

Yazoo could not answer.

"Let me see her."

A stretcher was brought, and Yazoo numbly laid Vega on the structure, lying her flat, holding her cold and pale hand. Immediately the latex gloved hands were upon her, and Yazoo was forced away as they crowded into a tight circle around her. Some strapped her down, others reached for her throat and chest, seeking a pulse. They began to converse quietly, rapidly, in a language that he could not understand.

"Where will you take her?" Yazoo asked, interrupting a harsh, whispered argument between two of the doctors.

A female voice responded. "The hospital, firstly. She'll need some bandaging. Nothing too extensive. A transfusion or two, just to be safe."

"Perhaps some scans, just to make sure nothing vital was caught in the blow," another added. Most nodded in agreement.

"What?" Yazoo asked angrily. "Can't you just leave us be? It's over!"

The doctors turned to him. "No, Yazoo," one said gently. "It's not. See for yourself, if you'd like." Three or four stepped aside to grant him passage.

Cast aside was the leather he had bandaged her with. It was soaked through and through. From the wound lazily oozed fresh blood in a slow, steady pulsing rhythm.

Which would mean her heart was beating.

In wonder and amazement, he whispered, "You're right…" Then louder, with his voice and eyes lightening, he announced, "She's alive!"

Gently, he approached her still body on the stretcher, moved his hands past the straps and tubes. He alighted his fingertips on her chest as he pressed his open mouth on hers. He breathed out, and they all heard Vega readily drink in the air he gave her. With the slightest pressure from Yazoo, Vega's chest collapsed as her body expelled the air.

Vega and Yazoo breathed in sync several times. Gradually, Vega needed less and less assistance to breathe. Soon she was sustaining herself.

"I don't believe it…" he cried. "Vega…!" He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers and then kissed her.

He surrendered her then, allowing them to hook her up to oxygen and put probes on her body. Once or twice, she stirred, moaned softly.

The lead doctor was at Aralyn's side. "Good to know that we could save at least one of them. Looks like we were just in time." His eyes wrinkled in a kind smile. "She'll be just fine, I should say."

Aralyn nodded. "How did you know to come?"

Hiding behind some equipment, she saw a small pair of feet shuffle. She caught a brief glance of the scientist who had worked with her alongside Hojo. She was pretty sure he was a photographer. Aidan and Nadiya apparently recognized him as well, as Aidan yelled something and Nadiya shrank back.

"Dr. Malv told us," the doctor replied. "We wouldn't have known without him."

Aralyn thought this over for a while. The short, stub of a man wouldn't come out from behind a tall, thin machine, and deliberately looked away from all of the action occurring in the room. His arms were folded adamantly, his back straighter than usual (though still gently humped), in a refusal to speak.

"…Thank you, Dr. Malv," Aralyn said, loudly enough to be heard but softly enough to be sincere. "You have saved multiple lives today."

The man's hand twitched. "The debt is still mine, and will be for eternity," was all he said before he ran off into the dark.

No one would ever see him again.

* * *

A/N: Again, sorry for the delay. Enjoy!

My hamster says "hi" too. He just ran into the computer.


	89. Haunted

**_Author's Notes/Alerts: **PLEASE READ ME FIRST**_**

I'm putting these at the beginning for a reason. Heed me well. Not only is this a horrible cliff-hanger, it's a tear-jerker. I've been planning this for a while but I still didn't expect it to come out this dark. I was maniacally depressed. I really should save writing for when I'm happier but I never learn... Anyway, for those of you who want the thrill, here it is; for the rest of you, to avoid heart attack it might be wise to wait. Yes, it's horrible and awful but the next chapter is going to be my most radiant, glorious Vincent/Vivian masterpiece. I hope to have it done tomorrow. It will be worth everything that has happened. (Yes, it will be called The Spark. I was going to combind the two ideas but I ended up with two chapters. Sorry about the inaccurate predictions. Hey, I'm a writer, I have the right to be unpredictable!)

Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I mean it from the bottom of my heart. You will never know how much your support means to me.

* * *

Everglow - Chapter Eighty-Nine

Aralyn took Vivian's shoulders, shaking her from her daze where she had stared after the ambulance that had left tracks in the snow and vanished. Vivian lowered her view from the horizon, staring at her feet now.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Aralyn said softly. "He's strong. He's pulled through before."

Nadiya came over and wrapped her arms around Vivian's legs comfortingly, nuzzling her head against her knees.

Vivian stood still, not able to respond to any of it. She had done it. She had been strong for Vincent. But now that he was gone, despair began to seep in.

"Sephiroth," Aralyn called, sensing Vivian's falling outlook. "Could you…?"

She heard Sephiroth approach. "I will be back, faster than the wind."

"Be quick," Aralyn said. He embraced her and kissed her tenderly before he turned to Vivian.

"Let us fly."

* * *

Blue and red lights swirled around him, swathing everything in its hues. Between the long expanses of darkness, Vincent heard the nervous, strict commands of the personnel in the ambulance as they fought to keep him alive. After one of his waking moments, he found himself being run down white halls to a large room, where a team of people waited in sea foam green scrubs and masks.

A mask was over his nose and mouth, held firmly by one of the nurses as he was rushed along. He couldn't make out her features in the rush.

Silver. Polished, sterilized silver. It was everywhere. That and the white. It was so bright that it hurt to keep his eyes open.

His stretcher came to a stop. Hands flew to undo the straps that bound and stabilized his body. After he was freed, his arm lolling limply off the stretcher, the hands slipped under him and slowly, carefully lifted him, sliding him onto another table, one of pure silver, under a huge light…

His breathing quickened as panic seized him. "Strap him down," a command came. "Sedate him."

"We can't," came a quick reply. "His heart's far too weak to withstand general anesthesia. If we put him out, he'll never wake up. I'm getting more local things done…"

The light above him burst to life, and his vision went white. Heat washed over his body, the intensity of the light giving off surprising warmth.

As the light swept over him, so did confusion. Vision fled, and so he lost one of his vital links to reality. Before he could regain his bearings, more sensations assailed him.

Thick, wired pads were stuck on his chest and abdomen, and the heart monitor began its stale beeping. His arm was swabbed with alcohol, and then three needles pierced him in quick succession. "Are you sure his body will accept this?"

"What choice do we have? We have to do _something_…"

"Take a blood test, quickly!"

"Chaos is going to complicate things…where's Dr. Crescent?"

The incisions, the proddings and poking as the doctors determined what damage was done, it all brought pain, so much pain, and with pain came memories….

There, in the shadow of the light. Was that….? But no, it couldn't be. Hojo was gone, his assistants somewhere unknown. Yet it felt so familiar, as if the evil one was there again, laughing and mocking as he took another instrument designed to help mutilate and maim, tear flesh and rip tendons, and replace with things better left unknown, until Vincent was more monster than man.

A sudden sound, the harsh impatient opening of doors. No, it couldn't be! Only one person walked into a room like that, he with a long nose whereupon square spectacles sat menacingly. Vincent's breath came out more shallow, quickened by his fear of this man, this one person who alone could cause him thirty years' worth of misery and nightmares. A new shadow loomed under the large, bright light……

* * *

"Dr. Crescent, come quickly!"

Vivian was just brushing off a few stray feathers from her clothes when the alarmed call came. From across the large lobby, she saw the woman stride quickly, holding herself tall, throwing open the doors to the operating room with latex gloved hands. There was no hesitation in her for what she was about to do.

"Wait!" Vivian cried, but the doors swung shut behind her, locking her out. Lucrecia and a nervous nurse turned briskly into a room, hiding them from her view. Vivian threw herself forward, shouldering her way past two nurses standing at the door. She would not allow herself to be stopped, not now, not so close to him.

"Miss, you can't be in there! Miss!"

She tore through the doors to the operating room, ignoring the signs that prohibited her entry.

She guarded herself, preparing for the bloody mass she was about to bring herself to watch, not to mention the glares of the staff when they noticed her, an unfamiliar, alien presence most unwelcome especially in this circumstance.

The doctors looked up from their work. She wished they wouldn't have; Vincent needed them at their best and quickest. At a loss of what to do now that she was here, she stood in the doorway.

"Miss, you must be _terribly_ lost…"

"I'm here for Vincent. I'm not leaving. Don't even try to make me."

No one could move. They didn't dare to take their hands off Vincent lest they damage their intricate work. A heavy, tense stalemate occurred.

Lucrecia came in then, dressed in scrubs, hair pulled back with a mask covering her face. She stopped pulling on her rubber gloves as she saw Vivian, stared at her in surprise, and shook her head. "Well," she said through the mask.

Vivian was in shock too. She had heard the nurses call for Lucrecia, but it hadn't occurred to her that she would be operating on Vincent. Of course it was blatantly obvious now. She was the one who had integrated Chaos into him in the first place, after all, and doubtless she was the one who knew the most about him from her studies. It made sense that she would be the best bet to give him the best care from the most experienced hands. He was her specialty. She _knew_ him. He needed that, now more than ever.

But that drive that had pushed her here began to dissipate. She had come because she felt that he needed her somehow. But Vincent didn't need her anymore, not when Lucrecia was here.

He didn't need her heart, and now it was confirmed that he didn't need her presence either.

She felt herself becoming increasingly useless to him.

"Dr. Crescent, can you please escort her from the premises? The last thing we need now is a distraction."

Lucrecia turned to Vivian, her eyes intense. "Don't make me go," Vivian pleaded. "I'll step out of your lives afterward, I swear, just give me a little longer…"

Lucrecia sighed, her eyes turning very sad. "Make room for her."

"Dr. Crescent…!" a doctor exclaimed.

"He's not going to be thinking straight," Lucrecia explained, ignoring the doctors, "and for all he knows, he's back in Hojo's laboratory. He trusts you. Convince him to stay. If he gives up now, nothing in Gaia can ever bring him back. "

"…I see," the doctor huffed, the tips of his ears red. He stiffly moved aside. "But do not interfere or I will have you put out."

"She's a nurse," Lucrecia vouched. "She knows better. Now, is he sedated?"

"Can't, Dr. Crescent. He's numb as I can make him, though. You can begin."

Vivian kept her focus on Vincent's face, refusing to see how many of the doctors' hands disappeared at the wrist, gone _inside_ of him. She approached the head of the table, where room had reluctantly been made for her. His face was upside down to her, his eyes flickering open and closed. Vivian put her hands on his cheeks and laid her forehead on his.

"Vincent, can you hear me?" she whispered, running her fingers through his hair.

His eyes suddenly shot open, his lips parting, but no sound came out. Alarm and panic were written in the furrows on his face; he was terrified. The beeps from the heart monitor doubled in tempo.

Vivian gripped his shoulders as tight as she could, leaning down close to him and murmuring soothing words quickly while trying to still her own heart. After the shocking spike, Vincent gradually calmed at Vivian's gentle coaxing. Behind them, in another world, Lucrecia and the surgeons argued.

"What was that?" Lucrecia shrieked. "I thought you said he was fully numbed!"

"He should have been by now! I thought for sure that…"

"Well he felt _that_!"

"I-I'm sorry! My mistake!"

"_Don't_ make that kind of mistake! Any number of things could have happened! _You could have triggered Chaos_!"

Vivian put the voices out of her mind and concentrated on Vincent. She smiled at him, assured him that everything was going to be all right, that soon the drugs would kick in and he wouldn't be able to feel a thing. "The pain is almost over," she said. "Just a little longer…"

She doubted he heard a word of anything she said. There were too many shadows behind his eyes that haunted him still.

As time went on, she became more and more certain that he was far beyond her reach.

"All right, I see what needs to be done," Lucrecia began. "And he's ready. Vivian," she addressed the nurse, "can you get through to him?"

"No," she breathed. "I can't."

Vivian knew, far before the surgeons and professors or the faithful monitor, that he was gone. It came as no surprise when the monitor shrieked out, high and piercing, its final verdict.

Vincent's heart had failed.

* * *


	90. The Spark

Everglow - Chapter Ninety

The noise was overpowering, each timbre sharp and clear in the sterile air. Behind the monitor she heard frantic voices, but couldn't tell what they were saying. Staccato sounds were running together. Her vision wasn't blurred; it was dimming, like someone was slowly turning down the lights. Hues of color were shifting, one moment the doctors wore green, the next, purple. Slowly her hearing was muted until she could hear only her heartbeat and her breathing.

A deep hum began from nowhere, more of a physical sensation than a sound, and an electrical charge strong enough to feel made the marrow of her bones tingle and her hair stand on end. "Clear!" someone shouted, and then her fingers, still anchored to Vincent, felt his body lurch quickly and violently. A short wait, not long enough for her to catch her breath, and then he was rocked again.

Three…four…five times he was reeled…then a sixth…seventh…and an eighth…quicker in succession…stronger in magnitude…

Eventually she lost all connection to anything that was not within her.

It stopped as quickly as it had started. Against her swirling world, she heard Lucrecia's sorrowful voice, surprisingly clear.

"I'm calling it. It's over."

The last thing she saw was Vincent falling, consumed by soft, flowing white.

* * *

A hand gripped her shoulder and pulled her back. "Vivian?" a voice called, soft and delicate, cautious.

The world she returned to was not comparable to the realm of chaos she had left. There was no noise; no monitors were beeping, no equipment rattled, no one spoke. Everyone stood so still and somber, hands at their sides or folded neatly, unoccupied and idle.

"Vivian," Lucrecia called again. Her voice was clear; she had removed her mask. Her hands, free of gloves, held hers.

Vivian found herself on her back on the tiled floor, a hospital pillow beneath her head, a thin white sheet as her blanket. The operating table looked like a formidable altar from where she was laid, and the doctors tall, grave guardians.

"Wha—what happened?"

"You blacked out, Vivian," Lucrecia said quietly. "You took a hard fall, does anything hurt?"

"I'm fine," she insisted. "Where's Vincent?"

Lucrecia turned her head a little, biting her lower lip. That told Vivian enough. She sat up abruptly but Lucrecia's hands pushed on her shoulders.

"You're exhausted," she said. "We'll move you. You can rest here at the hospital until you're well enough to go home."

"Vincent…!" Vivian started, her cry choked and weak.

Lucrecia's eyes brimmed with tears. "We did all we could, Vivian. It wasn't enough. He's gone."

She looked to see that the white that had enveloped Vincent hadn't been her imagination. A white sheet was draped over his body, arranged to veil him in light as a last respect to the dead.

"_No!_"

The older woman embraced Vivian, hugging her tightly, rubbing her back soothingly. "I know, Vivian," Lucrecia whispered, tears flowing from her eyes. "I loved him too, but we have to let him go. He's free now. He'll never suffer pain again, and maybe now he can find the healing that he couldn't find here."

"No…no he promised me…!"

"Vivian, let him go," she whispered again. "It's over."

Vivian started to shake, but she couldn't bring herself to cry. Her eyes were dry, her voice quiet but steady and clear, when she asked one last thing of Lucrecia. "Let me see him."

Lucrecia pulled away and nodded, helping her to her feet. The doctors moved away respectfully as they approached.

Vivian slowly uncovered Vincent's face.

Seeing him jolted in her heart to life.

_"I gave you the lifespark," _she heard a voice say. _"Remember?"_

And finally she did remember. In the cave, when she had been paralyzed, that woman had taken a tear and filled it with pearly light, but then it had disappeared…

_"Pass the spark to him, and carefully nurse it back into a flame."_

"Lucrecia," Vivian said. "Get the doctors ready. I don't think this is finished yet." Then, in her mind, she let herself fall. _"Take me to him," _she thought, knowing that the angel heard. She heard the whisper of wings and suddenly she was flying…

* * *

_Vivian found herself lying on her back in a field of tall grass, the rich soil soft beneath her head. She was looking up at a clear, azure sky through verdant, whispering leaves. The sun was high in the sky, nearly at its peak, rays of sunlight trickling through the leaves to fall in thin scattered rays on her body, dappling her with sweet warmth. She turned her head to find that she was lying amid tiny white wildflowers, flecked over the grass like sparse snowflakes. A warm breeze folded the grass elegantly, and a few strands leaned down, the velvet petals still splashed with dew stroking her face._

_Other than the wind, there wasn't a sound. For a while she was content to linger in solitude, perhaps sleep under the protective shade of the tree above her._

_A little yellow finch flitted above her, chirping happily, alighting on a branch. She smiled, reaching a hand up toward the small bird. The tiny thing puffed its feathers and shuddered, picking at something deep in its wing before it hovered and then, whistling, descended. _

_When the bird was just at her fingertips, nearly close enough to touch, it turned. Surprised, Vivian sat up and looked to see where it had gone._

_The finch was perched on the golden finger of a familiar gauntlet, chirping cheerily. _

_Vincent was standing not ten feet from where she laid, at the edge of a steep overhang that overlooked a winding river. He looked at the tiny bird as if confused, surprised to have something so beautiful and frail in the palm of his hands. He leaned his head closer, and the little finch did not move, not even when it saw his crimson eyes, which startled him deeply. Hesitantly, he raised his gloved hand and, with the back of one finger, slowly stroked the wing of the bird._

_Vivian pulled herself to her feet and watched as Vincent uncurled his hand and held it away from his body. The tiny bird spread its wings and flew away. Vincent watched it fly into the horizon, so absorbed that he forgot to lower his palm._

_"It wasn't afraid," he breathed. "Why?"_

_"It had nothing to fear," Vivian replied, just as softly. _

_He didn't respond, didn't turn toward her, but brought his hand slowly back to his side._

_Vivian walked to his side and stood there in silence. A foot of dead space remained between the two of them, a void Vivian wasn't sure how to breach._

_"An angel came to take Vega away," Vincent said at last. "Are you here to take me?"_

_Vivian thought for a moment. How could she respond to that? "Where is it you want to go?" she asked._

_Vincent shook his head. He paused for a moment. Then, raising his eyes to the sky, he responded ponderously. "I don't know."_

_Vivian tensed. Maybe if he was uncertain about whether he wanted to live or not, there was still hope. On the other hand, if his resolve wasn't strong enough for either option…_

_She turned her gaze to the world around her to ease her distress: to the tall tree that must be centuries old, to the river that ran like a silver ribbon far beneath them, to the tiny wildflowers that lived in the shade of the tree. "Where are we?" she asked in awe._

_"Most call it the Between. We are in neither life nor death."_

_"It is beautiful."_

_"…It is whatever you will it to be like," he amended calmly. "For everyone it is different."_

"_So do you see what I see?" Vivian asked. "Or are we in different places?"_

_He hesitated. "It should be that way." Then he admitted, "But for some reason that I can't understand, you are in my world."_

_That gave Vivian something to chew on, but she stopped as soon as an idea hit her._

What if I'm here because Vincent wished me here?

_But she could not think that way. Lucrecia would fill the gap in his life. They had always been meant to be. There was no room for her anywhere in the equation; not as a friend, not as an associate, not even as another face on the street. She would bring him back as her final gift, and then they would part forever._

"_So why did you come?" Vincent asked, just as soon as she had choked back her thought. Perhaps he had sensed the change in her mood, or perhaps she had not only figuratively choked. _

"_To bring you back," she said weakly. _

"_Ah…" he sighed. "I see." The way he said it seemed to suggest that the idea was not appealing to him._

_Vivian balled her fists and ran a few steps away, turning her back to him as her face and ears turned beet red. "Vincent you…!" she stopped, unable to say any more through her anger._

_The fury left her in a rush as Vincent's strong arms wrapped around her, his gauntleted hand resting on her shoulder while his other hand held her captive at the waist. He pressed her securely to him. Her back was pressed to his chest, her head lolled back on his shoulder. The breeze blew his ebony hair in her face, made his crimson cloak dance around her._

"_Vivian," he said again, his breath warm on her cheek. "Why did you really come?"_

_Vivian had to expend all her efforts on breathing, and couldn't answer. He was so very _close_…_

"_Vivian," he called again. Had he always said her name like that? "I remember the vow I gave you."_

"_Then come with me," she breathed. "Come back to me…"_

"_I tried, Vivian. I went to the very border of life, but I could not pass. My physical body is no longer strong enough to sustain me. I am sorry, Vivian. I have failed you."_

"_That's why I came," Vivian said at last. "The angel who took Vega, she gave me something, took one of my tears and filled it with pearly light. She told me to give it to you…she called it a lifespark."_

_Vincent gently turned around, carrying her with him, so they looked at the horizon. "Look," he urged._

"_Twilight," Vivian said, looking at the burning sun that lingered above the tips of the purple mountains and the skies that were splashed with color. And yet mere moments ago it had been noon. "What does it mean?"_

"_I think it means that my time in Between is nearly over," he said. Then, softer, "I think it is time to return."_

_Vivian squirmed a little. So the hard part was over, now remained the most embarrassing portion. "Uh, Vincent," she began cautiously. "The angel made the shining tear disappear, and told me it was stored in my heart. I can't just…give it to you, you see. It's not something I can hold or touch."_

"_Does that make your ability to give it any less?" he asked. She refused to think too much about what that might mean._

"_Well, the only way I could think of to get it out would to be something…heartfelt. A little…well, close…eh, intimate. Like maybe a…k-kiss." She had to force herself to say it, and hid her head as soon as the word was spoken._

_Vincent laughed. It was a sound so foreign, so quiet, that at first she didn't know what it was. He chuckled softly,_ genuinely_, a dark, beautiful noise that chilled and warmed her to the bone. Whatever she had been about to say next was swept away._

_Vincent, the tortured, broken soul, was laughing, a smile as soft as the dawn on his lips, a shine in his eyes that Vivian had never seen before._

_At last, at long last, he was healing._

"_What—What's so funny?" she asked, at loath to stop the seraphic noise but fearful of the awkward silence on her part._

"_I was just thinking of what a grievous insult it would be if I refused," he said, his voice dark as ever but his tone oddly light, freed, liberated. "To say that I would literally rather die than kiss you."_

_Vivian flushed. There was that word again. She couldn't believe she actually had said it, surely there was another way…_

_The world around them was fading. Between the blades of grass, tiles began to shimmer into existence. Where the tree had been, they saw the outline of the operating table, the doctors, even the silhouette of the still Vincent and Vivian, who was still bowed over him. The sun began to take the shape of the bright medical lights._

"_I-I promise I'll be quick," she offered feebly, shakily, knowing their time was running out. "I won't…you know…make it like…passionate or anything…"_

"_Vivian," Vincent said, calmly, as if they had eternity to decide this. All the while the operating room was becoming clearer and more substantial. He turned her to face him, still holding her close. His gauntlet was under her chin, cupping it tenderly in his palm, the claws at a safe pressure so as not to harm her in the slightest. "I must decline. I can't allow you to give me the lifespark…"_

_Vivian had never been in so much pain. Her legs gave out, but he caught her, despite her shaking and gasping for breath. "I—won't force you to anything…I'll…"_

_He silenced her with a serene smile, his eyes truly glowing now. "I can't let you give it to me, Vivian, not when I have the strength to take it for myself." His lips grazed hers and her heart stopped. "After all," he whispered, "it is my turn, remember?"_

_As his lips met hers, the materialization of reality speeded, and when it was over Vivian was left breathless, looking down at Vincent once more, the sheet pulled from his body. Only this time, she could distinctly hear more than the monitor reviving…_

_She could have sworn she felt and heard his heart revive to beat in time with her own._

_

* * *

_

A/N: So....was it worth the cliffie yesterday?

And YES I am on time. With two hours to go, thank you very much.

So is Vincent OOC? Cause I wanted to show change (that's what I've been building the whole story in case I haven't made it clear, in which case I need to go back to kindergarden writing class) but not really change who he is, his core, ect. Making sense I am?

Feedback will be used to fuel the happiness engine.


	91. Nadiya's Gift

Everglow - Chapter Ninety-One_  
_They had all waited in the lobby to hear news of Vincent. Avalanche had arrived quickly, every member silently seated. As seats were low in supply, Sephiroth seated his wife and stood at her side. Aidan stood too, giving his mother's lap to Nadiya, who managed to fit despite the presence of the baby.

Hours passed. Dawn came. Not a word of news.

At noon a nurse finally came. "Um…Sephiroth?" she asked, nervous to be addressing the ex-mass murderer. She didn't meet his eyes, looking at her feet instead. "I have a favor to ask."

"Yes?" he prompted.

"Vincent badly needs blood and…Lucrecia thinks…that since you were heavily injected with mako, like Vincent was, that it would help if you…"

Sephiroth came without a word, stepping back into a room and baring his arm. "How much do you need?"

"As much as you can give, sir."

"Take triple what you would from anyone else. Maybe more."

"…yes, sir."

The nurse was very uncomfortable to be sticking the most powerful man on the planet with needles. Sephiroth remained silent, looked away, sympathetic to her fear, if not a little saddened.

Nadiya was in the doorway.

"What are you doing back here?" Sephiroth asked his daughter. "Go back and stay with your mother." He was well aware of her fear of needles, a well justified paranoia after being raised by Hojo, and didn't want her to watch. "I'll be fine," he assured her.

Nadiya stayed rooted to where she was, frowning slightly, frightened and yet adamant.

The nurse began, and Sephiroth lost count of how many syringes were filled. After each, she asked, "Are you ok?" after which he told her to take more. He didn't let her stop until he felt only a touch light-headed, knowing that it took a lot to make him that way.

Nadiya blanched despite herself, horrified to see so much blood drawn from her father, appalled by how quickly it filled the syringes.

When he was bandaged he stood and smiled at Nadiya. He reached out to take her hand, but she walked right past him and sat herself in the chair, pulling her sleeve up and offering her pale arm to the nurse.

"Nadiya?" Sephiroth asked, surprised.

_"I want to help Vincent,"_ she signed. _"Your blood…my blood. Same. I can help too."_

"What do you need, little one?" the nurse asked. "Who let you back here?"

"She wants to give blood to Vincent," Sephiroth said.

The nurse shook her head. "Oh, no baby. You're too little. It could hurt you."

Nadiya pouted. _"I want to help Vincent!"_

Sephiroth tried to pick her up, but she wormed her way out of his arms, plopped herself in the chair again and thrust her bared arm at the nurse.

"She won't give up," Sephiroth sighed. "Just take a little."

_"No!"_ Nadiya signed. _"Two pokes. Two big ones."_

The nurse raised an eyebrow. It was easy to see how thin and sickly she was from her ordeal. To take double the normal amount from such a little body…

"How about just one?" Sephiroth bargained.

_"No daddy. Two."_

"One and a half?"

_"No! Two!"_ She frowned deeply and crossed her arms, indicating that this discussion was over.

Sephiroth shook his head and sighed. "All right, Nadiya. Two it is."

After her battle was won, she climbed into the chair, suddenly looking very small and afraid. "Are you scared?" Sephiroth asked.

_"Yes,"_ the girl admitted. _"But I be brave for Vincent."_ She looked at him pleadingly. _"You help me to be brave?"_

Sephiroth took her hand and slipped her onto his lap, reassuring her as one, then two times blood was drawn. "All done, sweetie," the nurse announced. "You did very well."

_"Not so bad,_" she signed, but she was pale and swaying.

Sephiroth kissed her forehead. "Vincent would be very proud of you."

Nadiya accepted the lollipop the nurse offered her and put it in her mouth, holding her sore arm close to her. "Do you want one too?" the nurse asked Sephiroth, offering him a blue raspberry sucker out of courtesy.

Sephiroth nodded gratefully and took it, not saying that he intended to give it to his son. He left the nurse baffled, wondering if the ex-Soldier had a sweet tooth. He carried Nadiya back to the waiting room, as she was still unsteady on her feet.

"I'll bring you news of Vincent when I hear," the nurse said stiffly, formally. He wondered what was going through her head, how or if she was managing to equate the terrorist with a concerned father just looking out for his family.

* * *

A/N: ...kind of cute, no?

Okay, coming up we have a bunch of happy tie-ups. Vinnie and Vivian have a few *cough* BIG events coming up, and then we have Aralyn's baby, of course. Everglow is almost done!

And because we're almost done, I have something important to talk to you all about.

here's the problem.

Broken Wings and Everglow were based in Gaia, in-world scenario. The Marked will not be. It will be something less of Square-Soft's and more of my own. This book will focus on Aralyn's past. Yes, Sephy and Vinnie and Nadi and Aidan will all be there, but it will _be _way AU.

I'm not bashing myself and I'm not saying I can't or won't write! But I am asking for your input as readers. If you'd rather I stayed in world, I can write a prequil to Broken Wings focusing on little (and General) Sephiroth that I've been planning since forever ago. I guess what I'm trying to say is that The Marked will be different. Maybe too different. I don't know. I want to write, I want to continue with the branches off of Broken Wings.

I don't know...but please_ please_ tell me your thoughts on the matter. I think it will be a good story...just a little different setting, that's all!

This has been bugging me for a while. Help me get it off my chest...?


	92. Through the Worst of It

Everglow - Chapter Ninety-Two

The wait stretched on forever. Nadiya had returned to her mother's arms, very pale and swaying softly, but Aralyn held her tight. Marlene approached then, and gave her a doll for her to play with, smiling. Nadiya took it and nodded thanks, beginning to tease the doll's hair into different designs distractedly.

The adults had convinced Aidan and Denzel to play with the toys in the corner, but the two boys lay on their stomachs, a forgotten ping-pong paddle in hand. Even when they had played, it was half-hearted. They were too worried to play.

Lucrecia came in many hours later, eyes lined with dark circles. She gave an exhausted, fatigued smile. "Vincent's going to be all right."

"He made it?" Yuffie asked, disbelieving, wondering if it was too good to be true.

"He's passed through the worst of it," Lucrecia sighed. Her hands were shaking; she was so tired. "You can all be at ease." She turned her gaze and smiled at Nadiya. "Your blood helped him through. He wouldn't have made it without your help. I'm sure he's very grateful."

Nadiya beamed, the pain of her sacrifice swallowed up in her triumph. Aralyn smiled and kissed her daughter. "My brave little girl," she cooed. "I'm so proud of you!"

The tension was gone. The two boys were on their feet, energized and ready to take on anything. All of Avalanche was in a joyous uproar. Barret clapped his comrades on the back, and Tifa threw her arms around Cloud. Yuffie bounced up and down, Cid remained seated, arrogantly smirking as though he couldn't believe they had doubted.

Sephiroth smiled, no less happy, but content to show it by taking his family in his arms. "Can we visit him?" Sephiroth asked Lucrecia.

She shook her head. "He's still a dreadful sight, and I doubt he'll be conscious for days at best. Let him rest. He's undergone more surgery in the last few hours than most do in their lives."

"What happened in there?" Yuffie asked.

Lucrecia put a hand to her temples and rubbed, closing her eyes and sighing deeply. "It was bad. We had to reconstruct his entire shoulder. Some of the worse wounds needed grafts and in one case, we had to cauterize some veins to stop the blood. One of Verian's strikes missed his heart by a few millimeters, and a broken rib grazed an outermost chamber…I will never understand how he managed to survive that. Then there was the blood loss, but he reacted very well to Sephiroth and Nadiya's type. He may have to have a couple transplants soon if he doesn't heal like we expect. Many of his body systems are still weak or dysfunctional from the trauma, he'll be on life support for no small amount of time, but he'll pick back up eventually. I don't think there will be any permanent damage…or at least any that's entirely irreparable."

"That sounds like things went as well as they could have," Sephiroth said. "He was very fortunate."

Lucrecia's lips pursed. "Not at the beginning…" she whispered

"He was dead…for an hour in fact…and then Vivian became so still that we feared we had lost her too. We had long ago given up on Vincent and began to treat Vivian from where she had collapsed on the ground, but we couldn't revive her either. Then their hearts started again, just like that. Same time. Same tempo, even." She shook her head. "I'll never understand what happened."

"Is she all right?" Aralyn asked worriedly.

"She stayed with Vincent for as long as we operated on him, holding his hand. She kept him rooted to reality when we thought we'd lose him to delirium. She hung on for as long as Vincent needed her, and when she was certain that we were finished, she collapsed. She's all right!" Lucrecia assured quickly, seeing the worried looks. "We've moved her to a bed and are treating her for exhaustion and shock. It's just that seeing all that took more out of her than she will ever admit to.

"Her spirit's stronger than her body," she said smilingly. "It'll need some time to catch up. A day's rest or so and she'll be up and out."

"So they'll be fine?" Cloud asked.

"All they need is time," Lucrecia assured him.

Avalanche, content with the news, said brief, strained farewells to Sephiroth and his family, the tension between the two parties still there, except for Tifa, who shook Sephiroth's hand firmly and hugged Aralyn and the children with sisterly affection. Cid jerked Denzel away from Aidan and Marlene from Nadiya, and then they left.

* * *

"If it's all right," Lucrecia said when it was only her and Sephiroth's family in the waiting room, "I'd like to take a look at you. You've been through a lot, it would put me at ease if you'd allow me to check over you all."

Sephiroth asked his children if they could withstand one more check-up, giving the option to decline if they didn't feel up to it. To his surprise, they both consented to a brief examination.

"_Lucrecia's nice_," Nadiya signed. _"Not like Hojo."_

"Not all doctors are bad," Aidan said. "Just Hojo and his friends."

Sephiroth was glad that they could see that, especially after all they had been through.

* * *

Lucrecia led them to a room wallpapered in a soft, sunshine yellow with red, blue and green dinosaurs plodding across the walls. The cabinets were a soft blue, the examination table a deep green. She urged Aralyn and Nadiya to sit in the red padded chairs and left, promising to return with one more for Sephiroth. The soft, juvenile colors were a relief from all the white and silver. Even the sink in the corner was brass instead of silver.

Aidan hopped up on the table, swinging his legs as he sat, waiting to be attended to, and looked at the funny looking mouth models and posters of cross-sections of skin. He wasn't scared at all. After all, he had his family.

Lucrecia returned with a chair and seated her son before she turned to her little patient. "I'll be nice," Lucrecia promised. "Not at all like that monster…"

As Lucrecia wrapped a fabric band around his forearm, she handed him the stethoscope and told him to hold it in his hands so it would be warm when she put it on his arm. The warm metal and her soft hands felt so much better than when Hojo had taken his blood pressure. She took his pulse by putting a funny black glove on his thumb that kind of tickled. He told her so and she smiled warmly back. She held the stethoscope in her hands again and even blew her warm breath on it so it would be comfortable as she put it on his chest and back. She shined a little light in his eyes and ears, then put a sweet tasting stick on his tongue as she checked his mouth and throat. She took out a funny hammer and told him she was going to hit his knee with it, but he didn't need the warning, it hadn't hurt at all and it was kind of fun to kick so high without even thinking. She laid him down and gently felt his chest with gentle, warm hands.

And then she told him he was done. Aidan blinked in surprise. No electric currents? No mako? Not even an injection?

Lucrecia sure was a lot different from Hojo.

"You're perfectly healthy," Lucrecia said as she lifted him down from the table. "Fit as a fiddle!" She reached into the candy jar, but stopped, eyeing him suspiciously. "You've already had one of these, haven't you?"

Aidan hoped his tongue hadn't been too blue from the candy and gave her his best puppy-dog face. Lucrecia chuckled and gave in, rewarding him with five cinnamon candies.

Nadiya climbed up next, and Lucrecia was as soft with her as she had been with him. The only variation in their treatments was how Lucrecia gently felt her wings, tested the joints, combing in between the feathers for remaining wounds. After she was done, Nadiya was rewarded with five peppermints, which she sucked on happily.

Sephiroth declined treatment, however. "Tend to Aralyn and the baby," he said. "I'm well enough."

Lucrecia smiled as she washed her hands for the third time since they'd been with her. "Would you like me to get an ultrasound?"

Aralyn smiled. "I don't know…Nadiya, Aidan, do you want to see pictures of your little sibling?"

The twins smiled, Aidan voicing an enthusiastic affirmative as Nadiya bounced and clapped her little hands.

* * *

A/N: Yes, I know that much of this is pointlss fluff. However...

Who wants to see Baby?

Now about the Marked and stuff...I have read your reviews and come up with a third alternative I present for your consideration.

There's no reason I can't work on both simeltaneously. I've done it before. I can juggle two. That way if you don't like the AU you can read the one about Sephy and Aralyn's childhood. I can't promise they'll both get equal attention but...

Fair enough?


	93. Little Hands

Everglow - Chapter Ninety-Three

Aralyn let Sephiroth grasp her under her arms and assist her up, lifting her onto the table and laying her down gently. She was beginning to get tired, and it was a hard strain on her body to carry so much extra weight. Sephiroth was sympathetic, helping her just as he had done in her last pregnancy: tenderly and without complaint.

She smiled at him, and he smiled back, smoothing a lock of her hair back into its place. "Excited?" she asked.

He nodded, still smiling softly.

Nadiya and Aidan were all smiles and giggles. The two exchanged excited speculations, some spoken, some signed, some silently shared in their secret childhood language. Nadiya had found a paper and was listing things that her little sibling would need, Aidan contributing as well.

The parents watched their children as they developed the list, Nadiya writing in unpracticed, wobbly script in an exceptionally thick green crayon. When they were finished, Nadiya handed their finished product to them, beaming. Aralyn laughed as she looked over the list, finding a quite thorough shopping list for a new little arrival. _Blankets, milk, bottles, diapers, toys, pretty smelling spray (for when baby stinks), burp cloths…_

Lucrecia returned then and summoned them to another room, and after assuring the twins that they would be sure to buy _everything_ on the list, the paper was neatly tucked away.

Sephiroth gathered Aralyn in his arms despite her mild protesting that she was well enough. They walked together down pristine hallways, keeping close, but the children weren't afraid of the big machines they passed that made funny noises.

Not even once.

* * *

Mommy was very big now, Nadiya observed, her tummy like a balloon, and she knew that over the next months she would only grow more. She wondered if it ever hurt to have someone else stuck inside you. She asked. Mommy said that yes, sometimes it did hurt, but that it was okay, because she had Daddy and her and Aidan to help her out and make her forget the hurt. "It's not forever," she said with a smile. "And when you see the baby, you'll know that it was all worth it."

Nadiya was very excited, but also was wondering how Lucrecia's special camera could take pictures of the baby when it was inside of Mommy. When she asked if that would hurt, Daddy said, "As much as taking a normal picture." She was glad.

The room where Mommy would have her picture taken was a little dark, a little cold, and a lot less colorful then the place they'd come from. Lucrecia said that she was sorry, but that the big camera couldn't be moved. It was a big camera, the biggest Nadiya had ever seen. The screen was the size of a TV, except it had a lot of buttons under it like a computer keyboard. Lots of wires ran from it into many outlets. She guessed that a big camera would need a lot of power.

Lucrecia showed her a small paddle while Sephiroth helped Aralyn prepare. "This is the camera," she explained. "We put it on your mommy's tummy and it sees inside her and shows us the pictures on the screen."

Lucrecia let her hold it. It didn't look too threatening, so she guessed it would be okay to use on Mommy.

"Are you ready?" Lucrecia asked Aralyn.

"We are," Aralyn replied.

Lucrecia did something funny then. She took a bottle from a shelf and squirted some clear gel all over Mommy's tummy.

"_Why do you do that?_" Nadiya asked.

"Just a special lotion to help me move the camera easier," Lucrecia explained. Nadiya made a face and she eyed her curiously. "What is it?" she asked after she was done spreading the special gel.

_"It looks like you're putting ketchup on a hot dog. Mommy's not a hot dog."_

They all laughed. Nadiya had been serious, but she liked that she made people happy.

Lucrecia pressed a few buttons before she pressed the little camera to Mommy's stomach. Aralyn and Sephiroth watched the screen in anticipation, and Lucrecia called Aidan and her in to where they could see too.

* * *

Aralyn could tell that the twins were disappointed. She couldn't really blame them; it looked like forms of white and gray floating in a fuzzy black sea. Nadiya frowned. _"Where'd baby go? I don't see him!"_

"Give me a moment," Lucrecia soothed. "He's in there, I promise. I'm pretty sure he hasn't gone anywhere quite yet."

Lucrecia pressed a few more buttons and slid the camera across her abdomen. The image shifted as the camera did. She looked for a few minutes, searching for a clearer image.

"Ah," she sighed at last. "Look! Here he is!"

The children looked up at the screen and squinter their eyes. "I still don't see anything," Aidan admitted, Nadiya similarly disappointed.

Lucrecia moved one hand off the camera and pointed to the screen, moving her hand in an arc. "There's his back, see?" They nodded, still unsure, but fairly certain that they saw the pattern of white. "The legs here...see?"

She outlined the feet and tiny curled toes, the arms and thin fingers, and the silhouette of a head. With every little detail Lucrecia pointed out, the twins began to see more and more of the tiny human shape. Each body part was a puzzle piece, and with each being put together, they were finally able to see their little sibling in his entirety.

"Mommy, mommy, that's my brother or sister!" Aidan exclaimed happily, bouncing up and down in excitement. "He's really there! I'm gonna be a big brother again!" Nadiya beamed with pride as well, clapping her hands in delight.

Sephiroth and Aralyn looked at the screen, both speechless, overcome with quiet joy and wonder. Aralyn's eyes were wet, shining with love. "My little baby," she whispered. Longing filled her eyes, an urge felt by Sephiroth as well, a swelling, sweet parental instinct to nurture and love.

"Look," Lucrecia urged again. "I only see one hand now, where's the other one?"

Aidan looked back at the screen, looked long and hard, and then laughed. "Baby's so silly…he's sucking his thumb!"

After a few last glances, the parents and their siblings said goodbye to the fuzzy image of their family's newest member, knowing that soon they would be able to hold him and see him in reality. The children happily bounced away, discussing their plans for their sibling and leaving the adults to talk alone.

"How did that feel?" Lucrecia asked as she wiped the extra gel from Aralyn's stomach.

Aralyn smiled and took her husband's hand. "Like a dream." She chuckled lightly. "All the same, it will only feel better when he's lying in my arms instead of sitting on my bladder."

Lucrecia washed her hands again, disposing of the gloves she had worn. "Yes, I know the feeling well." She became a little more sober and sadder. "Or…perhaps…I don't. Not like I would have if…things had been different."

"The past is the past, mother," Sephiroth reminded gently. "Don't dwell on it."

Lucrecia shook her head and brushed her sadness aside. "All right, to business then?"

"Sounds fair," Aralyn said.

"I've never seen a baby so well formed," she began simply. "How far along are you?"

"I'm not certain," she admitted. "But I was dead," Sephiroth winced at the word, "three months ago, so it couldn't have been longer than that."

"You look to be eight and a half, if not nine months along. It's not just your stomach that's unusually large for your time, the baby's all done growing and perfectly and fully formed. Every little organ and bone and tissue is done, he's ready to live outside of you. I wouldn't be surprised at all if he decided to be born this very minute."

This surprising news was met with silence. Sephiroth grew white to hear of the impending birth, a trying ordeal that would come far sooner than they'd expected. Even Aralyn blanched a few soft shades. "How soon?" she whispered feebly.

"I can't say." Lucrecia pulled out a sheet of paper and began to furiously scribble. "Did Aidan and Nadiya go full term?"

"Exactly on the due date," Sephiroth said.

"_Exactly_ nine months?"

"To the day."

Lucrecia set down the pen and sighed. "Baffling. I can't explain it." She looked to the couple in one last try for evidence. "Did Dr. Calvin offer any insight?"

"No, I never got an ultrasound. But we never expected twins because she said that she heard one heartbeat…" Aralyn stopped, struck by a thought. Sephiroth met her eyes and they knew they were remembering and thinking the same thing. "…but she said it was twice as loud as any other she'd heard."

Lucrecia looked over at the twins, who were playing side by side, hand in hand, in the hallway, skipping, Aidan hollering happily. "That, at least, I can understand."

Sephiroth helped Aralyn to her feet and straightened her shirt so it hung without a wrinkle and covered her swollen stomach. "Thank you, Lucrecia," Aralyn thanked genuinely.

Lucrecia still looked as if she was so tired that she might collapse. This impromptu checkup had not helped her fatigue any. "It was good…with so much death, to see a birth at last. And don't worry; when baby comes he comes and there's not much we can do about it. Be ready, but don't live in anticipation. It might be a while yet."

The children entered again and Lucrecia produced a box from a cabinet beneath the sink. "Here you go," she said, offering the box of small toys and stickers to them. "Have a prize, you've been so good."

Aidan eagerly dug through and tried every toy before settling for a red yoyo. Nadiya immediately pulled on Lucrecia's lab coat to get her attention. _"Can I take two?"_ she asked.

"I guess so," Lucrecia replied, surprised, not sure why the girl who never asked for anything was suddenly coveting cheap little plastic trinkets.

But Nadiya shook her head, changing her mind. _"No, one is fine. I don't need one." _She then got a plain, yellow, circular sticker with a black smiley face and peeled the fist-sized sticker from the wax paper. She surprised everyone then by going straight to her mother and gently pressing it on top of Aralyn's stomach.

_"For baby,"_ she said. _"He's been good, too."_

Sephiroth picked up his daughter and smiled at her. "I'm sure you've made him very happy."

* * *

A/N: Sheer, utter FLUFF.

But everything discussed in this chapter was based on my experiences with ultrasounds. The way Nadiya put the sticker on her mother's stomach and said it was for baby; that was me when I was six and went to see my mom get an ultrasound when she was pregnant with my little sister. The hot dog thing was when I was getting one (no I wasn't pregnant, I just had internal abdominal issues) and they spread the stuff on me and I thought (not said) "What am I, a hot dog?" Yeah, so…crazy stuff pretty much.

And a little thing I thought I'd clarify. Aidan and Nadiya are nine, right? But they mostly act like toddlers. As I will reveal soon, they are very brilliant intellectually (Hojo would have been interested in their mental capacities, I should think), but very naive as to things like behavior and mental maturity. I mean, honestly, they were raised in a lab. They're like newborns in this new world they're coming to know. So what I'm trying to say is that if their real age and the way they act don't match, I did it on purpose.

And I purposely withheld the gender of the baby because I am EVIL.

And eh…*cough*…I hope you don't mind if I don't explain the actual blessed event of baby's arrival in too great detail. Eh…yeah. Not only is it socially awkward, but _you_ try putting Sephiroth in a situation like that and writing his reaction…_in character_. Thank you for your understanding. *cheesy grin*


	94. Faith

Everglow - Chapter Ninety-Four

Vincent had slept for three months.

Vivian had been sure that he would heal quicker than she would, and had even dreamt of it often. She thought that he would be waiting for her, and then they would talk face-to-face and sort out what exactly had happened in the Between.

But when she sprang from the hospital bed two weeks later, Vincent had still not awakened. Not only did he appear unchanged, but a quick look at his wounds told her that he was just as hurt as when she had last seen him in the operating room. He was not healing like he should.

Vivian hadn't left the hospital since.

There was always work in the never-sleeping hospital and an extra pair of trained hands was more than welcome. For the first time since she had met Nadiya and Aidan all those months ago, she became a full-time nurse again. She found herself deeply grateful for the work. Keeping her hands busy warded off the despair that otherwise might have overtaken her. Her patients needed her, both physically and emotionally. She relished her return to what she knew and loved best of all: healing, in whatever form it presented itself. Sometimes it was performing a life-saving blood transfusion, others, it was simply holding a lonely child after visiting hours were over.

But no matter how hard she worked, she never once lost sight of her dearest patient, the one who flitted on the brink of death time and time again and yet would not fall.

The hospital staff did not share Vivian's apparent optimism for Vincent's survival. Another nurse had been assigned to him in an attempt to ease the pain of an imminent separation on Vivian. It did not matter. No matter who was assigned or how early they came, they always arrived to find Vincent's bedding already changed, his IV refilled or replaced with precisely what he needed, his bandages fresh and clean, and his charts neatly updated. His room was always in perfect order, tidied and spotless, with fresh flowers at his bedside and the window open to let the sunlight spill over him, washing him in golden radiance. The room smelled lightly of fragrant floral arrangements and the new pre-spring air, a taste of the sweet renewal of life that always followed the brutal winters.

Vivian refused to relinquish her responsibilities, even when she had been threatened with suspension for her defiance. But eventually, it was her superiors that relented, as the young nurse had proven herself to possess the stronger will, and Vivian officially became Vincent's caretaker.

Visiting hours were always a busy time of day for Vincent. Even while he slept many came to see him. Avalanche came without fail, if only to peek in and say hello. The fact that they came faithfully every day, even when there was really no need to, helped Vivian to keep her faith as well. But his friends weren't the only ones to pay the slumbering man a visit. Word had leaked out to the schools that their hero had been gravely wounded, and ever since there had been no end to the small faces she saw that peeked shyly from behind flowers, plates of cookies, or stacks of letters and hand-drawn cards.

But in the dead of night, when all the visitors and Avalanche had gone, four more friends came by the light of the moon, soundlessly flown in on a single, silent wing.

After Vivian's duties were done, and the door to Vincent's room was locked for the night, Sephiroth would fly his children up to the twentieth-floor and help them climb in through the open window. At first Aralyn had accompanied them, but as the months drew on, she became increasingly weak, and soon reached the point where her pregnancy would not allow her to rise from her bed. Still, Sephiroth and his children left her in the protection of Faramir for a short hour to visit Vincent every night. The children always brought bright smiles with them, and often a picture or some other small handmade craft to add to the collection on his bedside. They would then climb up on the bed beside him, sit at his side, and talk to him about the wonders of their new life as if Vincent was awake and listening.

Without fail, Nadiya left him with a gentle but heartfelt hug with her arms and wings and an encouraging pat on his head. "You'd better be awake tomorrow, Vincent," Aidan always said. "Or else you'll make me angry and Nadiya very sad." But the man was always swiftly forgiven the next day, on the condition that would be awake the next time. Then, as silently as they had come, the family would disappear into the night.

And so the days passed, and Vincent hadn't stirred from his unnatural slumber. Weeks passed, and wounds that should have sealed themselves were still gaping wide. A month, and his vitals were slipping ever downward in a slow but steady descent. Six weeks, eight emergency surgical procedures, and five new machines later, he was stabilized. Seven weeks and the stitches fell out. Two months and they could remove the scaffolding from his recently reconstructed shoulder. Nine and then ten weeks and an infection occurred. Page after page of the calendar crumpled in the wastebasket…

But Vivian didn't mind so much anymore. She would wait, regardless of how long it took for him to rise. And she knew, with everything she was, that he would.

* * *

On Saturday morning, Vivian's schedule had been filled to overflowing, appointments of patients that needed her care overlapping each other. From the second she finished carefully caring for Vincent, she was everywhere in the hospital, on every floor, in every room. She had done more work on that day then she had in the whole week prior to it. From little trivial tasks to emergency calls, from the top floor to the third basement, she worked breathlessly until noon, at which she had been allotted twenty-minutes for lunch, after which she was to resume until two the next morning.

She hated to neglect Vincent, but she knew that every minute that Vivian was not with him, Lucrecia was. She bit her lip, raised her chin, and carried on, vowing not to sleep until she had cared for him a second time, even if it ran into the following day's early morning tasks.

It was surprisingly convenient that her last task before lunch had been right by the cafeteria. Some of her friends were there, she could sit, breathe, and relax for a few moments. She looked at the watch on her wrist and found that her last task had taken longer than planned. She had ten minutes to eat.

Waving a brisk goodbye to her colleagues, she ran down the hallway and slid a few gil into the vending machine, snatching up a thin granola bar and eating hurriedly as she stepped into the elevator headed for the twentieth floor.

She had a few minutes. She could at least peek in, just to make sure he was all right.

But Vincent's bed was vacant, the sheets unmade, a note signed by the surgeon pasted to the chart.

So that was why they'd kept her so busy: to keep her out of the way.

She could not focus until she returned to his room at four that morning. To her relief, he was there, lying still as ever, weak, helpless, and frail in a white gown against the white sheets and steel bed frame. To counteract that, however, was the knowledge that whatever the surgeons had done, it couldn't have meant good news. And that surgery spanned almost a full twenty-four hour frame. What could have needed such extensive attention? Was his situation truly that dire?

So she learned that every day that was packed full of jobs, or every time Yuffie and Tifa came by to "spend some quality girl time together" or "shop for Aralyn's baby shower", it meant that she would return to find another incision in Vincent's flesh, another row of small, neat stitches, another wound that they could only hope would serve to heal, another permanent scar that he would carry forever.

And still, he did not wake.

And the days of distractions were getting more frequent.

* * *

Three months to the day, and Vivian was heading up to spend a rare evening off by tending to Vincent. She was rather dissatisfied with the job that the nurse who filled in for her did. Sure the work was done, and quite nicely too, if she was to be honest, but that nurse didn't care like Vivian did. She'd spend a little extra time with him today, tidy things up, work harder than ever to make up for the time she'd lost.

But there were two figures already in the room.

One of the men who stood by Vincent's bedside wore long, plain robes of humble, well worn fabric, all black except for an unadorned white band at his throat. He was young, perhaps twenty-five, with neatly combed, short gold hair with bangs that fell to graze the top of the rim of his circular glasses. A pendant of copper was pinned to his breast, the carvings so faint and weathered away by time that they were indecipherable. His head was bowed over his fervently clasped hands, his eyes closed as he murmured a soundless prayer in pious and solemn reverence.

The second stood in an expensive suit of midnight black that fitted without wrinkle. He was a straight man, tall and lanky, with an air of power and wealth that was a severe contrast to the humble priest in prayer. He had cuff-links of diamond and a golden chain drooping over his breast, a pocket watch open in his hand, as he huffed at the time impatiently. He looked to the other, and finding the man still praying, sighed very audibly and pocketed his jewel encrusted watch, then shoved his balled fists in his pants pockets and leaned against the wall, a small jingle ringing in the reverent silence from how his fingers played with heavy coins in his pocket.

"What are you doing here?" Vivian demanded.

The rich man straightened and took his hands out of his pockets, hastily correcting his sloppy posture and casual, impatient mood and replacing it with business-like indifference, a bored, dull poker face. He cleared his throat very authoritatively and raised his chin haughtily at the nurse.

She felt the tips of her ears and her cheeks heat but she was interrupted from her anger by the younger man. "Miss Vivian, I assume?" he said in a calm but steady voice. His eyes were a soft, kind gray. He extended a hand to her, reaching across Vincent's body. "I am Carter. It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

The man seemed sincere, but she still couldn't take his hand. "What are you doing here?" she asked again, quieter, as she could not refute Carter's kindness with a demand.

"We were promised that you would not interfere," the rich man said, his voice every bit as conceited as his attitude and body language. "We owe you no explanation."

"André, if you please," Carter said softly, before Vivian had the time to get angry. Then, turning to her, he continued despite his companion's remarks.

"Forgive us, Miss Vivian, but we were told you would be absent. I am sorry, I have taken too long again."

"What are you doing here?" she asked a third time, now a whisper, knowing in her heart the only reason why a minister would be called.

Carter was truly sympathetic, she saw his eyes sadden as he realized that she had guessed. "We were called to see to Mr. Valentine's final arrangements, Miss," he said it very gently, speaking as carefully and softly as he could, but the words still scraped at her like knives.

"That's impossible!" Her voice was suddenly very loud. It was all ridiculous, a misunderstanding. Even now she could hear the beeping of Vincent's heart monitor, the soft exchange of air in and out of his body via tubing and machinery. He may have been in a coma, but that was a long ways from dead.

"Miss Vivian," Carter's voice was still incredibly caring. "I know this must be a very hard thing for you. Your emotions for him are strong and pure, but you must understand." He continued before Vivian could voice a reply. "Mr. André's father makes the finest memorials in Gaia. He will be honored as the great hero and man he was…"

"No, you don't understand. It's _impossible_!" she refuted, her tone of voice rising. "Listen! Hear that? That's his heart, his breathing!"

Carter lowered his head. "They did not tell you, then?"

"Who didn't tell me what?"

"Miss Vivian," Carter said, quietest of all. "They've declared him beyond hope. They take him off the life-support systems in an hour."

Vivian's heart stopped, she did not breathe, and silence rang. The kind, humble priest could not have hurt her more.

She looked to Vincent, seeking a sign that they were wrong, that they were _all_ wrong. The man still laid still, his skin milky pale with a tinge of ashen, deathly gray. He had always worn black and red, his body hidden, but now he was clad only in a loose white gown, his arms and neck bare. He was so white, the sheets were so white, and the only contrast was his ebony hair, splayed on the pillow limply. Colors ran in and out of his body; red blood, silver probes, clear saline fluids, bluish medicine, green antibacterial solutions. Across his tortured face ran an accusing tube under his nose, a sign that he was too weak even to breathe, to fight against the weight of his own chest that crushed his failing lungs.

Carter could say little more, only extending his hands comfortingly, as if to embrace her. "I am so sorry."

"_No!_" she wailed. In the vase at Vincent's small table was an arrangement of anemones, the flower that was said to bring serenity to those in Death's palm, her lively daisies of yesterday tossed in the wastebasket. She seized the flowers by the stems, threw the window open, and tossed them to the busy city below. "He doesn't need these," she insisted. "And he _won't_ need a coffin or gravestone."

"…Miss Vivian…"

"Get out," she said, eerily quiet and calm after her outburst. "Please, just go."

"…Yes, ma'am. I am sorry to have disturbed you." But he whispered one last prayer, this time on Vivian's behalf, before he slipped away respectfully.

"So I don't have to take any measurements to my Dad?" the other man asked, who had gone back to slouching against the wall and sucking on a strand of his long hair as she had spoken to the priest.

_"Get out!_" she screamed, and slapped him with an open palm against his flawless face, so hard that the man spun and fell to the ground. "Don't _ever_ come back!"

Her mad shrieking had attracted quite a crowd outside the door, nurses and even a Turk gathered to see what was causing such a commotion in the quiet, methodical hospital. Peeking her head out the window, she eyed the Turk and pointed directly at him. "You!" she commanded. "Stand _here_," she thrust her finger downward toward where her feet were, "and don't let _anyone_ in."

The spectators soon scattered, frightened away. Even the young Turk looked daunted, and took his place looking more than a little nervous.

She sprinted down the stairs, unwilling to wait for the crowded elevators, all the way to the ground level, running outside to where her bike was chained to a rack. Throwing herself to her knees, she twisted the dial on her combination lock until it opened with a soft click. She unthreaded the heavy chain from where she had weaved it in between the spokes, jerking at it until it broke free. The bike fell off the rack and onto its side, lying on the sidewalk with its wheels spinning lazily. If a robber stole it, good for him. She didn't care.

Back up twenty flights of stairs, and by then the sweat was pouring down her face. The Turk wisely left as she charged toward the door. She took the bike lock and wrapped it around the knob of Vincent's door and a hook that was cemented to the wall, double-looping and knotting the chain, tangling it in every way she could think of, before she clicked the lock shut. She jerked down twice, making sure the lock held, and when it did, she took off running down to the main floor again. That wouldn't stop them forever, but maybe it would buy her enough time to sort this whole mess out.

_So the hospital staff _thinks_ they are going to shut Vincent down. Well_, she resolved, _they won't think that for much longer._

_

* * *

_

A/N: Everyone, meet Roz! *holds up a computer chip*. She's my *coughELDERLYcough* text-to-speech program. She helps me edit out embarassing mistakes by reading my work back to me!! If only she didn't pronounce Sephiroth's name SETHRO....oh well. (yes, she is named for the Monster's Inc. Secretary)

AND!

I am on wireless internet! I can now update any time of day from anywhere in my home or if I'm feeling especially stealthy, my school. *much rejoicing*

So...I will write. Fresh muffins and expensive cheese to you all!


	95. The Final Week

Everglow - Chapter Ninety-Five

"You can't do this!" Vivian cried, ramming her clenched fists onto the head-surgeon's desk. She had kept her cool and calmly rationalized long enough; her patience and strength were wearing thin. She was getting desperate, and she knew the older man could tell. "You just don't understand. He'll make it. I _know_ he will! Just give him more time…please!"

The man removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers, sighing deeply. "Vivian, don't do this to yourself. You know what has to be done."

"_No…!_"

"Vivian, there's only so much space in this hospital. When someone comes along who _needs_ that equipment it has to be available. You know that."

"_He_ needs it!" she protested. "But only just a little longer, then he'll be fine!"

"Vivian listen to sense. You've been trained enough to tell that it's hopeless."

"But he's breathing!" she retorted.

"With the aid of a machine which, might I add, is also manually pumping his heart," he amended, still calmly, but red was seeping slowly into his cheeks, his voice rising in volume. "His heart has the same capacity to sustain him as a stone does."

Vivian was treading on dangerous ground. Still, she continued. "His wounds! They've nearly sealed themselves!"

"Thanks to extensive grafts and a growth hormone to stimulate the healing, which his body was not able to even begin on its own."

Vivian choked, wanting to speak, trying not to hesitate or show weakness, but she was running out of ideas. In her head, she knew he was right, but her heart told her something different. "His eyes flicker…he dreams. His mind is still awake!"

"…Not anymore, Vivian," the man reminded her, near silent now, but simmering with impatience. "That ended five days ago, and you know it."

"You _can't_ do this!"

"I _can _and I _will!_" the man roared, rising from his seat, livid. "We can't keep a _corpse_ hooked up to live as a _vegetable_ while people who actually stand a chance to survive are _dying_!"

Vivian was stunned into silence, feeling a nearly physical sting from the bite of the words. _A corpse…Vincent Valentine…a corpse…_

The man's eyes softened and he seated himself again. "I'm sorry, Vivian," he said quietly, sincerely. "This choice has been almost as hard on me as it has on you. He saved my daughter, you know."

She hadn't known that.

"I don't want to see such a hero die. Not like that…hooked up to machines, weak and helpless. I take no pleasure in my decision. Neither does Avalanche, but now they are at peace with it. They are ready to release him."

So Avalanche had given up as well. Vivian was more and more alone in her position by the hour.

"I am sorry, Vivian."

"Then, if you feel sorry for me, give me one last favor."

"Anything."

"Give him one more week. I _know_ he can make it by then."

The head-surgeon stood up from his chair and turned his back to her, looking out the window at the horizon. After a long while, he spoke.

"One week, Vivian."

Vivian could not express her thanks, and so turned after a few stuttered attempts, running to Vincent's room.

"Vivian," he called out one last time.

Vivian returned dutifully. His gaze was somber and grave. "At six p.m. one week from today, if he has not improved, you will not interfere what has to be done."

"…I will step aside," she quietly vowed.

"Then you are dismissed."

One her way out, she heard the man sigh.

"Vivian, I doubt there's much foundation behind this madness, but by Gaia I hope you turn out to be right."

* * *

_Monday_

Vivian began by changing his sheets and documenting the changes she saw. She wrote down the truth, bare and unfeeling, that he was slipping away, but took no heed of the data.

He would pull through. He always had before.

* * *

_Tuesday_

Avalanche did not come as a whole anymore. Only Tifa arrived that day, a bunch of bright daisies in her hands.

"That's so nice of you," Vivian said, smiling, as she pulled out yesterday's daffodils from the vase and began to replace them.

"Oh, those aren't for Vincent," Tifa replied, removing them from his bedside and folding Vivian's hands around the stems. "They're for you." In her small, sad smile was startling genuine sympathy, not for the man in the bed, but for her.

"How long has it been since someone's comforted you?" Tifa asked as she embraced her friend. "You're hurt too."

Vivian laid her head on Tifa's shoulder and breathed in and out as Tifa swayed gently, hugging her firmly. Vivian wouldn't let herself cry, but the embrace was a balm on a wound that she hadn't had the time to recognize.

* * *

_Wednesday_

They took him away at three in the morning, after she had fallen asleep on a chair next to his bed.

They hadn't returned him until six that evening.

* * *

_Thursday_

Nadiya brought a white rose she folded from paper. _"For hope,_" she said.

Later, Vivian found that in the hustle of the day the rose had fallen from the table and had been run over by carts and shredded by shoes. The delicate white creation was in ruins, nothing but damp gray remains to show for it.

Gray…like the color of Vincent's sallow cheeks.

* * *

_Friday _

On the way to pick up her meal Vivian had passed Lucrecia outside the operating room. The doctor's body was bent, her head in her hands with her hair falling in limp cascades, sobbing brokenly, shoulders heaving in heavy anguish. In the next room, Vivian heard the surgeons continue on with whatever it was that Lucrecia had been unable to watch.

The woman suffered alone as the doctors slowly tore her Vincent apart.

* * *

_Saturday_

From Vincent's lips tore feral screams.

Somehow amid the panic and the confusion she had managed to call for help, but it had come too slow. By the time a full staff of doctors and (she was horrified to find) Turks, Vincent had already done grievous damage to himself in his mad rage.

A nurse had literally dragged Vivian from the room, shutting the door behind her, another figure from within locking the two of them out.

"_What's happening to him?"_ Vivian wailed, screaming with horror at the scenes of Vincent's violence against himself still fresh before her eyes. "_What is going on?"_

It wasn't until later that Lucrecia told her.

"It was Chaos. He knows Vincent's going to die. He's trying to get out."

* * *

_Saturday – 6:00 p.m. – 24 hours remain_

Vivian grabbed one last granola bar from the vending machine.

The countdown had begun.

* * *

_Sunday – 12 hours remain_

When they finally let her see him again, she found why the Turks had been called. It seemed that to subdue Chaos they had had to shoot him.

Twice.

* * *

_Sunday at noon – 6 hours remain_

As the days had worn on and the deadline crept closer, she had eaten and slept increasingly little. All that day she was too weak to do anything but stroke his hand, pleading in a whisper for him to arise.

No one came to visit him, and many of the hospital staff workers wore black armbands as a sign of respect for the dead.

* * *

_Sunday – 2:00 p.m. - 4 hours remain_

Carter the preacher showed up again. He stayed for a long while, praying for the both of them, offering words of solace.

Vivian hadn't heard a thing that entire time.

And she hadn't had the strength to dispose of the anemones he had left.

* * *

_Sunday – 4:00 p.m. – 2 hours remain_

Desperate to do something, but too weak to rise, she asked for a needle and thread and the tattered remains of Vincent's cloak, but piecing the shreds together proved to be just as impossible as rebuilding his torn body.

"You promised me you'd stay," she reminded the dead man, weakly, brokenly.

* * *

_Sunday – 5:00 p.m. – the final hour_

She didn't know she had slept, but was awakened by Sephiroth.

"Come with me to Faramir," he offered gently. "Stay with us and heal."

But she couldn't leave him now, not even to save her own life.

"The strength of your hope amazes me," he murmured to himself as he left, probably thinking that she hadn't heard.

But Sephiroth was wrong; she couldn't hope any more, it hurt too much, and was far too taxing on her exhausted soul.

* * *

_Sunday – 6:00 p.m._

Vivian let the doctors grip her under her arms and pull her to her feet, move her back so the nurses could move in. With dry, dead eyes, she witnessed as they respectfully removed the needles from his pale hands and arms. She watched as they stripped away the last blood-stained bandages and cleaned his body one last time, then wrapped him in crisp, white cloth, though it would serve no purpose.

And, after a murmured prayer that Vivian could not participate in, she watched as they first removed the probes, and then cut deep into decaying flesh to remove the device that had stimulated his heart and lungs from within his chest. Sealing it with stitches, they then removed the last of the tubing from Vincent's face, the one that assisted in his breathing.

Without a word, everyone walked away, leaving Vivian alone with Vincent for her final farewells.

Vivian approached the corpse, then fell over his bed as her knees failed her, lying against his ice-cold body, and sobbed.

She didn't know how long the tears cascaded, how she rocked the entire bed with her quivering, how many times she called for him in grief or convulsed in anguish. All that she knew was that when she was dry and empty, she laid her head on his heart to feel a gentle thumping.

Surprise gave her the strength to raise her head. She shied away as if he had burned her, gasping, suddenly breathless. The painful, wishful delusion had torn her heart yet again.

Someone was choking. At first she dismissed it, trying not to sense anything further, but then found that it was a reoccurring, pained, and _very_ real sound.

Vincent's lips were parted, the strangled noises coming from deep within his throat. He struggled on, trying to gasp, but failing, his chest quaking with exertion from trying to begin what it used to do regularly, but could not.

Vivian didn't let herself think. She positioned her lips a fraction of an inch above his and hesitantly exhaled.

The man drank in her air like a man in the desert drinks the sweet oasis waters.

"Vincent!" she cried, and he gulped in the air from her exclamation, his body heaving in pleas for more. Taking in so much air that she thought her lungs would surely burst, she pressed her mouth firmly atop his, sealing off the air between the two of them, and steadily exhaled a gentle stream of air.

Where the mouth-to-mouth aid had ended and the kiss had begun, she could never tell, only that in a blur of hope he was breathing on his own, through his nose, deeply and regularly. As his body became satisfied, he took advantage of her current position. She was bound to him, though he could not raise his arms to enfold or embrace her. "Gently!" he whispered painfully, still weak, and Vivian's enthusiasm was hurting him. Restraining her joy, Vivian remained where she was for as long as he had the strength to continue.

When they had broken apart, her face still close to his, he had whispered to her as he smiled for the first time in months.

"Vivian…you should have known…I always keep my promises."

* * *

A/N: Tehn says this: "AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!"

And before I forget! Tehn gave me a Valentine's Day present explaining how Aralyn got the black wing necklace featured in Broken Wings. Go. Read. Review. For it shall make her feel very happy and inspired to continue writing the tragic tale of the misery and woe of the dear, sweet, beloved, broken necklace. oh, by the way, this is Tehn. Second paragraph = all me. oh yeah.

And this is Fluty. E-Cheese to all! Thanks for reading!

(and whoever it was that nominated me for best anime fiction...I'm SO on to you. Not really. Thanks, it really means a lot to me.)


	96. Unfinished Business

Everglow - Chapter Ninety-Six

With hats on tight, every strand of silvery hair concealed, and cat-eyes veiled by sunglasses, Nadiya and Aidan followed Vivian into the hospital. Tied to Nadiya's wrist was a bouquet of helium balloons, which bobbed along as she did, and several small objects were both in her hands and in the bag which she carried on her shoulder. Aidan was hefting several light but bulky boxes, the brim of his sunglasses and the bill of his hat just visible over the top of the highest one. Vivian, the most heavily loaded of the trio, could only press the elevator button by lifting her knee and pressing it to the wall, setting her load on it so she could free one finger enough to do it.

Following closely and protectively behind, Sephiroth lingered in the shadows, supporting his wife, skillfully and deftly weaving in and out of sight as they made their way through the hospital.

When they reached the twentieth floor, Vivian and the children laid their packages outside of Vincent's door, holding their breath as Vivian silently slid the key into the lock, turned, and slipped inside. She disappeared inside for a moment, then peeked outside again. "He's sleeping," she mouthed. She pressed a finger to her lips, then grabbed a few boxes and quietly moved them inside, motioning for the children to quickly do the same.

All pairs of available hands flew to the work. They moved in silence, the only sound the occasional excited giggle from Aidan, which was always hurriedly but lovingly hushed.

When streamers in every color of the rainbow looped around the room, helium balloons tied to the slumbering Vincent's bed and some that did not rise littering the floor, the twins put party horns in their mouths, smiling widely, and grabbed large fistfuls of metallic confetti, approaching Vincent's side on their very tip-toes.

Vivian, Sephiroth, and Aralyn stood back, but nodded at the twins.

_"SURPRISE!_" Aidan yelled with all the air he had in his lungs. Nadiya blew long and hard blasts repeatedly on her horn. The twins threw their confetti up in the air, then grabbed more from the large bucket and repeated the same procedure with the same enthusiasm.

Vincent jolted awake as if electrically shocked, jumping in alarm. Once the initial flare of panic passed, he stilled, though still was very tense and coiled, even though he was laid out flat. He eased himself back down, slowly moving his head and eyes across the room. He winced, blinded by the vivid color that was more appropriate for a circus than a hospital room. When he had hesitantly viewed every corner of the room, blinking confusedly, he turned his eyes up to the ceiling and remained still as the confetti fell on his like colored rain.

"…Surprise…?" he murmured as he looked to the twins, blinking twice, his voice weak and raspy still.

But he had no time to recover from the ambush. The twins leapt onto his bed and threw themselves at him, embracing him with everything they had. He groaned in pain, writhing and grimacing as they squeezed his torn body, but they did not relent.

"You're really all right!" Aidan cried. "You're going to be okay!" Nadiya burrowed her head into his shoulder, the one that was still under reconstruction, and he gasped in evident pain.

The children pulled back, startled by the pain that they had been too happy to see. "…Vincent?" Aidan asked, confused and hurt. "…you're not all better? You still hurt?"

Vincent sighed deeply, then raised arms pinpricked with needles and wires and pulled the twins into him, laying Nadiya on his chest and letting Aidan rest his head on his unwounded shoulder. Both sighed contentedly.

"Good morning, Vincent," Vivian said, grinning.

"…Good morning," he replied, if a little stiffly.

"Oh, don't be mad at the children. They were so excited to see you," Aralyn said. "They've done nothing but prepare all week. They were worried sick for all these months and now that it's all right, their little bodies couldn't contain all that joy."

Vincent dipped his chin in a small nod, his eyes still half vacant, as if half-asleep.

"We worked hard to make your birthday surprise!" Aidan said.

"…It's my birthday?" Vincent asked, disbelieving, suddenly looking a little more awake.

Vivian replied as she pulled out paper plates, forks, and cups. "No, it's February, but the twins noticed that in all the excitement, we didn't have the time to celebrate." She smiled. "I think you'll find that they more than made up for it."

"You really shouldn't have…"

"But Vincent," Aidan protested, his eyes wide and pleading. "You gave _us_ such a special party."

"I'm old," Vincent murmured in reply. "Birthdays aren't as exciting anymore."

"You're not old!" Aidan shot back.

Vincent had no reply. "Shut up and play along," Vivian advised. "You might even enjoy yourself."

* * *

Vincent would never admit to it, but he had enjoyed himself. Perhaps not the typical way of the jubilance and excitement of a party, they had hoped to bring him, but he felt a certain subtle serenity, a soft contentment that colored his day much brighter.

Nadiya had proudly pulled out a mammoth of a cake; a double-decker, roughly heart shaped structure that had clearly been cut out of a rectangle without much precision. The icing was nearly an inch thick, the top and bottom edges lined with an added frill of whipped cream. On the top were red gummy candy hearts arranged to spell "Vince…", the "nt" having been extended over the side as there hadn't been room to accommodate the large, irregular, childish font of lettering. Candles sprung from the top like striped wildflower stems, too many to count.

And the thick, handmade butter cream frosting was _pink_.

"We're sorry, Vincent," Aralyn said from behind a hand, fighting back a smile. "We didn't have enough coloring for a _true_ red. Nadiya was very upset too."

And she looked it. The little girl frowned at her creation, moving the hearts to try to make the letters neater and the candles to make them more evenly spread. _"Not perfect,"_ she signed. _"Vincent deserves perfect. I not do a good job."_

"It…looks delicious," Vincent said, though his insides were groaning at the thought of so much sugar after months on an IV and then, just yesterday, an upgrade to applesauce and saltine crackers.

Nadiya grinned shyly, an innocent rose-petal pink hue coloring her perfect cheeks. _"You really think so?_"

They lit the candles, having gone through three matches to get them all that way, the first one lit a little stub of wax by the time the last wick ignited.

They set the flaming pink heart on Vincent's lap, and every one of them, even the great general Sephiroth, sang "Happy Birthday", Nadiya accompanying them by giving long toots of her party horn.

Vincent took a breath so deep that it pained his healing chest, then blew the candles out. His effort was met with happy applause.

_"Did you make a wish, Vincent?"_ Nadiya asked.

Vincent blinked, looking startled. "…I didn't."

"Well make one now!" Aidan said. "It's not too late!"

_"You can wish for _anything_!"_

"…Anything…?" he breathed. He hesitated, looked to the ceiling, looking suddenly quite pensive, and even a little worried or sad. No one could decipher his expression, and it was impossible to tell what was running through his mind. With a small, dark chuckle, he shook his head at last, emerging from his trance. "All right. I've made my wish."

"Cake!!" Aidan called excitedly. "Let's eat!"

Sephiroth gave Vincent a slice first, then served his eager children, Vivian, and his wife, taking none for himself. Vincent accepted the cake from Nadiya, but was confused as to why they stared at him with such anticipation. He realized that they were waiting for him to take the first bite, and that they wouldn't eat until he did. He lifted his fork and slid a small bite into his mouth.

It was the single sweetest, most delicious treat he had ever had in his life. The inside of the cake had been constructed with as much care as the outside. There were two layers, each primarily made of angel food cake, but was swirled and rippled with a chocolate so rich and dark that it was literally a flat black. Between the two layers was a generous heaping of fresh, sweet berries and tart raspberry syrup. The frosting was light and airy, not as sweet as he had expected, but much more satisfying.

Even Nadiya was fully satisfied upon tasting her creation, though Vincent did wonder of Aidan even tasted it, for he shoveled it in his mouth so fast and ate so ravenously.

"And we got you a present!" Aidan called as soon as he had finished, not able to stand a beat of dead time. "Nadi made it!"

Nadiya handed her nibbled cake to Vivian and pulled a gold-wrapped present from one of the boxes they had hauled in. Excitedly, she toddled back to Vincent, pulling herself up on his bed by gripping the handlebars and hoisting her body up, flapping her wings for an extra push to propel her over the top. She set the thin, small package on his lap and sat at the foot of his bed, bouncing up and down.

Vincent took the small package and fingered a corner of the gold paper, his fingers toying with the curled white bow. But Aidan, impatient, wouldn't let him drift back into his thoughts. "Come on! Open it up!"

Vincent carefully peeled the paper away and a necklace fell to the white sheets on his lap.

On a plain black cord was a hand-crafted bead made from a thin rectangular piece of bark, sanded down so it was smooth, and painted a deep, glossy crimson, the color of his cloak. On either side of the bead were two smaller, irregular orbs that he shockingly identified as small nuggets of pure silver, polished, but still mostly unrefined in their raw, natural state. On the handmade, crimson pendant, two characters were painted in a deep black gloss, raised from the surface of the bead.

英雄

Vincent was struck speechless, the pendant held in his palm the sole focus of his burning gaze, the cord dangling from his pale hand to coil on the sheets below.

"…Hero?" Vincent whispered at last, fingering the elegant strokes of the beautiful calligraphy.

"_That's right!" _Nadiya signed. _"I wanted you to have a shiny medal, so everyone can know that you're my hero!"_

Nadiya's small hands took the necklace from his hand and put it up to his neck. Her fingers threaded the cord under his hair and tied a sturdy knot in the back so it encircled his pale neck as a loose choker. She adjusted it a little, until at last she pulled back, satisfied.

_"You have to promise me you'll always wear it…forever and ever!" _She nodded sternly, then slipped from the bed without another word. Vincent silently watched her toddle away with wide eyes.

They stayed the rest of the day. They had brought their favorite games like Stack the Chocobos and played them with Vincent while Sephiroth took Aralyn to be inspected by Lucrecia.

When Sephiroth had returned, Aralyn sleeping fitfully in his arms, Vivian and the children had fallen asleep, Vivian in the chair and Nadiya and Aidan lying next to Vincent, an open storybook still in Vivian's hands. Vincent was wide awake, staring at the ceiling. The room was dark, lit only by a lamp at Vincent's bedside, but the colorful decorations from the party still were there, metallic confetti glimmering in the lamplight and reflecting colored rays like tiny mirrors.

"Was that too much for you?" Sephiroth asked quietly, setting Aralyn in a chair so he could ruffle his sleeping son's hair. "They were very enthusiastic, and you aren't in the best of shape."

"I think I'll recover," Vincent replied.

Sephiroth gently lifted his son, holding him against his shoulder. The boy stirred a little, but didn't wake from their sleep. "A word of advice, then," Sephiroth continued. "Don't go outside until you can handle a bombardment of attention. You've been all over the news…all of Gaia will want to see you."

Vincent winced, and watched as Sephiroth took his son into the next room. He returned soon, and began to pick Nadiya up from where she was sprawled across Vincent.

"What about you?" Vincent asked. The general waited for clarification. "Have they found out about you, as well?"

Sephiroth looked pained. "No…nothing official…but there are too many rumors." He held his daughter close to his chest and smoothed her hair. "Our family can't live in secret for much longer, we will be found out, and when that happens…"

He shook his head and protectively pressed his little angel ever closer to him. "We have to stay the night here, Aralyn's too sick for travel, but our room is guarded by Turks. The hospital staff knows Aralyn now, knows that she's my wife, and they are suspicious of the children." Sephiroth's knuckles were as white as the moonlight. "Soon, we won't be safe anywhere in Gaia."

"Is Faramir secure?"

"I can only pray it's safe enough," Sephiroth replied.

He took his daughter into the next room then, and stayed a while, but came back to gather his wife.

"In two days," Sephiroth began as he hefted Aralyn into his arms, "Rufus Shinra will tell everyone. There's no stopping the news, and there's no use letting false rumors spread and take over. We're going to come straight out and tell the world the truth."

He turned and exited the room a third time, but stopped when he stood in the doorway. "I intend to appear before them myself…in person."

"Is that wise?" Vincent asked. "There are many that would kill you without a second thought out of revenge."

Sephiroth looked down at his sleeping wife, stroked her cheek with the back of her hand. "If it wasn't for my family," he murmured, "I'm not so sure that I wouldn't let them."

He turned back to Vincent. "You share our blood now, I guess that makes you family. I know you've done so much that I could never repay you, but I would ask one more thing of you. If something should go wrong, if I should be killed when I reveal myself, take care of my family. Please protect them, keep them from being more innocent victims of hatred."

He disappeared into the next room, and Vincent distinctly heard the shuffle of boots as Turks shifted into defense positions, guarding the family as they slept.

Vincent found that sleep was impossible. He stayed up the whole night, reflecting how Aralyn had once been killed partly due to Avalanche's refusal to accept her loyalty to her fallen husband. He wondered if Sephiroth would now die because Gaia would not forgive him.

* * *

A/N: The chinese characters (they had BETTER show up...) are pronounced _ying xiong_ ("xi" makes a sound like "she") and it does mean hero. If I'm not mistaken, Japanese kanji uses the same characters as Chinese, just pronounced differently. (so...in theory...it means hero in Japanese too...?) Anyway, anyone that could refute or support that would be muchly appreciated.

Sorry. No sprecken ze Japan. Just chinese. ;)

Anyway, we are coming to a close. The plan (subject to change) is one chapter summing up Gaia's reaction to Sephiroth, one for widdle BABY!, and one as a surprise thrown in the middle. And a chilling epilogue to lead into The Marked.

...eh...and maybe...a wedding?


	97. The Price of Redemption

Everglow - Chapter Ninety-Seven

Sephiroth did not sleep at all that night. Physically, he could go a week or more without an hour of sleep, but he wished he could slip into darkness as easily as his wife and children could; his mind ached to rest and to be idle.

The only light in the room was the red numbers of a digital clock. Except for the breathing of his wife and children, the room was silent, so silent that Sephiroth's ears rang. In the velvet blackness of the small room, he cradled his wife close, near enough for him to feel her warmth, her strong heartbeat and steady breath on his chest. In a bed positioned not three feet from his, he could see the silhouettes of his sleeping children, how their little chests rose and fell, how they occasionally sighed and tossed in dreams. The Turks, true to procedure, were silent, and yet their invisible presence outside the bolted door unnerved him. He was the great General Sephiroth, the strongest man ever to live. When had he _ever_ needed protection?

Unable to rest, her stared at the clock and watched as every minute silently flew by.

At three thirty, Aralyn began to stir, moaning softly in her sleep, instinctively curling up into herself and shuddering. Sephiroth gently adjusted his position so he could be near her still, rubbing her back soothingly and murmuring softly into her ear, not loud enough to wake her, but enough to reassure her into stillness with his gentle touch and voice.

He held his angel in his arms, let his wing lie across her as her comforter, pressed her to his heart, and yet could not find enough solace to pacify his crippling emotions. It was as if she was a phantom from a dream, a spirit to be whisked away with the dawn. Sighing under the immense burden of nightmares and memories, he clung to her as his last link to the life and truth he had always sought, fearing that, yet again, she would slide through his fingers into unyielding and unmerciful death.

He feared, above all else, that there were only so many times his family could escape death and fate. When would their luck run out? How long would it be before justice took his wife, unborn child, son, and daughter in payment for the blood he had spilt?

In that small hospital room laid everything that ever meant anything to him. Human lives were so frail; they would pass far easier than he would. A wrong slip of a knife, a small metal ball, some concocted poison or even a microscopic parasite could end them. He trembled with the fear that his punishment would be to survive as his family was taken.

He would happily die to prevent that, but he was becoming increasingly sure that he would not be given that option if he permitted his family to stand beside him any longer.

Aralyn jolted awake with a small gasp, tense and startled. One hand flew to her abdomen as the other clenched the sheets in an iron grip. Sephiroth started, immediately asking, "Is it the baby?"

Aralyn was quiet for a little while, but her grip relaxed soon. "I…I think he was just a little rambunctious…that's all. He just startled me. I think it's passed. It's not time. He's not coming yet."

Sephiroth slowly let out the breath he had been holding in a sigh. Despite Aralyn's gentle chiding for his worry, he still retained the belief that childbirth was not without a danger of its own. This was just one small flare, other times it had been worse. She had gone into false labor no less than seven times since they had brought her home to Faramir.

As he mused, Aralyn's hands felt around in the darkness until she put her hands on his cheeks. Having found his lips, she drew close and kissed him softly. "Sephiroth, what's wrong?"

Sephiroth didn't answer, just stroked her hair as he continued to wind his way through his convoluted thoughts. But Aralyn could always see deeper into him; he couldn't hide his worry through the bond as strong as theirs. Tenderly, she wrapped her arms around his neck as she saw the core and roots of his fear, kissed him again, her wet cheeks brushing his. He wrapped his wing the tighter around the two of them, both to warm Aralyn and to hide their voices from the children.

"Do you have to do this, Sephiroth?" she asked. "After we've just become a family again?"

As she always did, Aralyn had hit the core of his concern on the head. It startled him, as it always did, how deep her sight extended into his soul. She had seen what had inspired so much apprehension; the appearance he was to make before the whole of Gaia later that day.

"We've always hidden. We can do it again. No one knows of Faramir…and if we're found out, then we can go to another land. How far away, or where we go, I don't care, so long as I can keep my family alive."

"We can't hide anymore," he murmured. "Not after all that's happened. They'll hunt us; you know that. What if they lay a trap and I'm unable to protect you? I won't take that risk, Aralyn."

She sobbed once, gripping the belts that crossed across his chest. "And you think they won't hunt us after today? What if nobody even listens to our story? What if they kill us all?"

"That won't happen," he said resolutely. "You won't be there."

Aralyn was stunned into a moment's silence. "Sephiroth?"

"This is my sin," he said. "My atonement. You and the children are clean from this. Very few know of your existence, and rumors aren't so widespread or believed. They can still be stifled. You can still hide, but it's too late for me." He pressed her closer to his heart, speaking in pain. "If death is the price I must pay for what I've done, then I'll not let that fate fall upon you and the children too."

"So I'm to sit at home and let you be killed. Is that what you're saying?" she threw back at him bitterly.

"If it should come to that, then yes, Aralyn, that's exactly what I'm saying."

Aralyn refused to take it, as he well knew she would. "Do you have to get up there? Rufus can tell everyone just fine, he doesn't need you."

"Shinra's reputation is questionable at this point. They might not believe him. They need a better witness than that."

"The children need their father!" Aralyn wailed, so loud that Sephiroth flinched and feared that perhaps she had awakened the children. Then, softer, she said brokenly, "And I need my husband. Doesn't that mean anything?"

"Aralyn," he pleaded with her, "listen to me."

She became silent, but still shook with tears.

"I don't want to die," he said. "Not when I've just found my life again. But if I do, know that I died to protect my family, so you and the children could live in peace."

"Peace?" she asked. "When I go into labor without my husband to strengthen me, knowing that the child I bear will never know his father; when I become a single mother; when I lose my angel and strength…the other half of my soul, will that be peace? I'll live in the most barren desert with _nothing_ as everyone in the _universe_ hunts me if I can keep my family. I'd go back to Hojo, with a smile on my face, and have more peace if he tortured me every hour of every day than if you left me."

Sephiroth didn't know how to respond to that, didn't know how to tell her that he felt the same way, and that's why he was walking so willingly into what might become his death. "Perhaps it won't come to that," he said, his optimism not very believable.

"But why take that gamble at all?"

"Because I love you, Aralyn, and because I want you to live."

They had reached an impasse, and now had nothing more to say. The infant life within Aralyn was making her eyes heavy, though she struggled to stay awake as if to persuade him more.

"Don't go," she moaned. "Please, don't do this."

She could not hold off her fatigue any longer, and fell into sleep as tears still streamed down her cheeks.

* * *

He awoke just before dawn, dreading the morning rays, but he moved without hesitation. First he rose and knelt beside the bed where his children lay sleeping. Gently, he took Aidan in his arms and whispered into his son's ear. "Aidan," he said, "I love you. Be strong. You're the man of the house now. Protect your mother and sister; I fear the road for all of you will be dangerous and long. Value the lives of others, but don't be afraid to fight either. If ever you should need to draw upon my strength in battle, I'll always be beside you."

He stirred in his father's arms, sighing softly. Sephiroth wondered if he had heard or if his final farewell would forever go forgotten.

He held Nadiya the same way, rocking her back and forth as he whispered his goodbye into her ear. "Nadiya, I love you. Don't ever let anyone tell you that you're weak or handicapped. You are perfect. Never be afraid to raise your voice. Never let anyone tell you that you can't. Prove the world wrong. Fly. Every time you spread your wings, I'll be with you."

He laid her back beside her brother, pulled the covers over them and tucked them in tight, then kissed their foreheads, whispering "I love you," one last time to each of them. Then as he pulled back, he said to the both of them, "Never forget that."

He knew he could not touch Aralyn or his resolve would shatter. On the pillow where he had lain the night before, he laid a slip of paper that he had written last night. "Aralyn," he said to her sleeping form. "I promised I'd always be your angel. My death won't change that."

And to the baby he might never know, he sent a thousand wishes for safety and prosperity. He prayed that these lives would flourish despite being planted so near one that was so scourged by pain and blood.

One hundred Turks were waiting for him along with Rufus and Avalanche. Sephiroth submissively held out his palms. "Bind me," he said.

Hesitantly, five pairs of hand cuffs were brought, all of them manacling his wrists. When he was chained, he let the Turks fall in around him and draw each of their guns.

Avalanche solemnly took their places guarding the door of his family's room. "Don't worry," Cloud said to Sephiroth as he was led away. "We'll keep them safe."

And so Sephiroth was led into the sunlight, where thousands upon thousands of the citizens of Gaia were assembled to hear the truth and to judge his fate.

* * *

A/N: At school. got to go FAST. will write more. e-cookies!


	98. Vows

_a/n: This actually should be chapter 97...it comes before the last chapter chronologically. Eh...yeah. Sorry 'bout the mix up._

Everglow - Chapter Ninety-Eight

Yazoo walked silently into the cold hospital room. In the room where Vincent lay were two other beds, all three in a row, separated by monitors and machines. In the far right bed laid Aralyn, heavily watched after Sephiroth had brought her in. In the far left, closest to the door, was where Vincent had stayed for the past three months.

In the middle bed was Vega.

His leather creaked softly as he sat in the dark blue plastic chair against the wall at the foot of Vega's bed. She was sleeping, as she often had, the darkness of her unlighted space contrasted by the single light on over Vincent. Yazoo noticed fire-orange eyes watching him.

"You're awake," Yazoo stated simply.

"Yeah," Vincent replied.

Pleasantries aside, Yazoo turned back to the sleeping Vega. Her usually tidy braid was undone, her hair splayed out on the pillow. Her hair was disheveled, having lost its normal healthy golden luster in the past months, and was riddled with tangles and knots. Her face was pale, too pale, without the living flush of blood in her cheeks. Her lips were slightly parted, air slipping silently in and out in a deep, slow rhythm.

A solemn feeling overcame Yazoo as he looked at Vega in her current state. Yes, he had seen her every day and night over these past few months, but it still struck him every time how little this frail icy angel resembled his fiery, passionate Vega. It was wrong for her to be so still and pale, wrong for her to tremble and moan like a suffering child.

But another emotion of elation usually won out over this uneasiness as he reminded himself of the most important truth.

Vega was _alive_.

As he had done too many times to count in the past months, he reached out and laid the back of his hand on her cheek, his touch as light as a butterfly's, and stroked with the barest whisper of a caress. Silently, he breathed her name in sacred reverence, wishing he could hold her, rock her, but afraid to touch her lest she shatter.

But, unlike the times before, this time Vega slowly opened her eyes.

Yazoo froze as he was met with those sapphire eyes that he knew so well. Something like electricity ran through him, stunning the breath from his lungs. He couldn't breathe; he was far too spellbound.

Her pale pink lips formed into a tired smile. The toll the injuries had taken on her body had been great. She looked as if fresh from the battle field, exhausted in spirit and body, but the smile she gave him was filled with vitality, with life and sweet exuberance at having arisen as the victor over her own body, of knowing that it was done.

"…Oh, Yazoo…" she breathed. She washed him in warmth from that sweet smile, but it soon faded, replaced with a disappointed frown. "Why aren't you holding me?"  
Yazoo smiled as he broke from his trance, glad to know that his Vega was back. "I'm afraid to break you, Vega," he admitted. "You're so weak right now."

"I'll break _you_ if you don't…" she gasped in the middle of the statement, clutching her side and bending forward in pain, her breathing suddenly sharp as the pace of her heartbeat spiked. Yazoo's arms were there to receive her, and, when the spasm had passed, to ease her back down into the sheets.

"Right now," she rasped, trying to be commanding and assertive. But when he still didn't embrace her, she looked up at him with wide, glistening eyes. "Please?" she asked in her most frail, pleading tone, her lower lip quivering softly, probably not entirely genuinely. "Hold me?"

However theatrical and false Vega was being, Yazoo still couldn't resist. He wondered how many times he had succumbed to that glance, and decided not to count. Weaving his arms through wires that connected her to machines, he slipped his hands under her body and lifted her into his lap, cradling her there as he bent down to let his lips lightly play against hers.

"See?" she said. "You should know by now. I always get what I want."

"I'll never learn," he said simply, not caring if he had been defeated so long as it meant he could kiss her again.

"That's better," Vega sighed as they broke apart. Content, she laid her head against his chest. "So," she asked next. "When were you planning on marrying me?"

Yazoo fingered the wedding band that was still on her finger. "After all this," he said, "after you've been nearly dead for months, the first thing you ask about is our wedding?"

Vega frowned. "Okay fine. That can be the second thing. First things first. What's that I smell?"

Yazoo smiled sheepishly. With his dangling leg, he kicked the bag he had brought with him under the bed, out of her view. "Vega, you really shouldn't…"

"You brought me food, didn't you?" she interrupted.

"…in your current condition what you really need is nu--"

"Don't you talk to me about nutrition!" she snapped. "Hospital synthetic-plastic green jell-o and carrot casserole isn't going to cut it. What did you bring me?" she demanded, jabbing a finger into his chest.

Yazoo sighed, knowing better than to talk sensibly with her, and reached down to pull a canister from where he had kicked it under the bed. "Knew I shouldn't have," he murmured, but he popped the lid off anyway.

Vega took one long whiff of the substance and melted in his arms. "Oh…" she sighed in rapture. "Oh…oh…you brought me ramen…_oh!_"

Yazoo positioned her back on the bed so he could prepare the meal. When he was done, Vega reached out eagerly, only to find that her hand movement was restricted by the IV wires. "Tch!" she scoffed in disappointment, mortified to be held back by such insignificant plastic wires. But before she could rip them out, Yazoo raised up a fork heaped with noodles, cupping his hand under it so the rich broth would not stain her sheets, and slid it into her mouth.

Under normal circumstances, she probably never would have allowed herself to be hand fed, but she couldn't resist, not when Yazoo was tempting her with ramen.

When she had slurped down all the noodles, he pressed the canister to her lips and tipped it back so she could drink. She drank it like ambrosia, sipping every last precious drop.

Fed and happy, she laid back against the sheets, but did not relax for long before jumping right back into business.

"So," she said. "Our wedding."

"As soon as you're well," Yazoo promised.

"No. Not soon enough. I want to be married _now_."

Yazoo shook his head but Vega persisted. "I'm in a white gown now," she said, sweeping her hand across her hospital robe. "There was a pastor seeing to Vincent, we can flag him down, he'll call us man and wife, and that will be that."

"No flowers?" Yazoo inquired. "No cake?"

Vega pointed to Vincent's bedside. "Maybe Vince will let us borrow some of his flowers, and who needs cake? I liked the ramen much better."

"No one else to celebrate?"

"I don't need any one else," Vega whispered, surprisingly tender after her fiery argument of before. "Just you."

"No tuxedo?"

"Overrated."

"Wedding toasts?"

"Sappy."

"Bouquet toss?"

"Ugh. Tacky."

"Honeymoon carriage?"

"Your motorcycle is faster and cooler. It will work fine."

Yazoo smiled and put a hand on her cheeks. "You are a very unique bride."

"But I'm _your_ bride."

"Yes, Vega. Soon, you will be my bride."

Vega sighed. "I don't want it to be _soon_. I want to say our vows _now_ and be done with it!"

Yazoo thought a moment, holding her hand, stroking her palm with his thumb in thought. "There's no reason why we can't," he said coyly, smiling mischievously.

Missing the playful banter in his eyes, Vega beamed, thinking she had triumphed yet again, but was stunned when Yazoo got the floor and kneeled on one knee.

"Vega," he said, suddenly serious and fervent. "I give you my oath now, with Vincent Valentine and Aralyn as my witnesses, that when we kneel at the altar together and I take your hand in mine, I will swear to be yours for the rest of eternity, and to take you as my wife for the rest of our lives and beyond."

Vega blinked twice, taken aback by the solemnity of the oath. "I," she said slowly, "swear likewise."

"Then we are agreed." And the two sealed their pact with a kiss.

"You know," she said when it was all over. "That wasn't exactly what I wanted."

"I know."

"But don't think you've won! I always get my way!"

"Of course, Vega. Always."

* * *


	99. Surviving Loyalty

Everglow - Chapter Ninety-Nine

The roar was deafening. Thousands of people were crowded around the memorial that stood as a testament to the meteor, the center of the city of Edge and the outskirts of the Midgar that he had nearly abolished. A thousand voices cried indistinguishable words, their voices tossed and ricocheted from the dismal, gray surrounding buildings. Nearest to the statue, which was still not entirely rebuilt from Bahamit SIN's attack, were the men and women who thought themselves brave or desperate enough to avenge lost husbands, wives, or children. On the outskirts of the writhing mass of people, tiny heads bobbed, many angry, but more crying or trembling in fear even as they searched for Sephiroth with a morbid curiosity.

Sephiroth was led to a hidden balcony overlooking all of this and, if only for a heartbeat, faltered. Here were the thousands whose lives he had destroyed by taking the ones they held most dear. Here were those that he had caused to suffer just as he had when Aralyn had passed away in his arms. Now he beheld the true magnitude of what he had done in a way he never had before. In a way, it was more harrowing than even the freshly spilled blood or dying screams; this was his aftermath, his legacy.

He couldn't face this, but he had to.

He watched as a new force fluidly appeared out of nowhere. Dressed in smart navy suits, the Turks pushed the civilians, looking like an ocean wave dispersing the sands outward. Soon there was a considerable space around the statue, in the center of this crowd. He would stand there.

The crowd had guessed with the appearance of the Turks that Sephiroth was soon to appear, and they guessed right. Just before he was led into another secret passageway he heard the tumultuous cacophony swell with new rage as well as increased stabs of raw terror. Sephiroth didn't know which was worse.

His guards prodded him onward, but he looked back over his shoulder through the one-way glass of the concealed window, drawn to the crowd by a strong and agonizing bond. He looked at them for a long while. The civilians below had no idea that Sephiroth saw them even as they demanded for him to appear.

"Come," one of the Turks finally snapped. He didn't see which one. He didn't really care.

He was led underground, which made more sense every time he thought about it. To escort him through such a crowd and expect to remain unscathed was absurd. Instead, he would rise to the surface when they reached the area under the buffer zone that the Turks above had cleared.

The tunnels were long and winding, the only light coming from two strips pasted to the ceiling. In the metal passageways, the footsteps of the hundred Turks rang out in tandem as they kept a steady, militaristic beat. Each man was at attention, gun drawn but at his side, marching identically from step size right down to how far the foot was lifted for each step. Sephiroth had known that rhythm, marched under it many times and led it even oftener, and yet, despite his instincts, his footsteps fell irregularly, a solitary dissonance against the perfect method of the Turks.

He had never felt so isolated.

Sometime along the venture, an explosion rocked the earth above them, and the procession was called to a halt. Someone had constructed a home-made but very lethally effective bomb, probably in hopes of catching Sephiroth. But in the man's rage, he either forgot about or blatantly disregarded the lives of others. When that bomb had gone off, his own life and three others were ended, and all for naught. The man had died without his vengeance.

The Turks were now at ease, waiting until the fear above was abated enough for them to continue. They remained in rigid formation as they rested, and did not put away their guns. A hundred pairs of feet were exactly shoulder length apart, hands folded neatly over the gun and left to hang in front of them, heads bowed at the same angle.

Nearest to Sephiroth on his left was a man whose presence had made him uneasy from the start. All along their venture something about the Turk had bothered him, pricking his conscience, but he couldn't think of why for the life of him. It was only after twenty minutes of silence that he at last remembered.

"Cadet Reyson?"

"Yes, sir," the man dutifully replied.

It was as Sephiroth had thought. This man had been one of the few cadets that had accompanied Zack and him to his final mission in Nibelheim.

"Your brother was in Nibelheim, wasn't he?" Sephiroth asked the man.

Reyson hesitated, his grip on his gun tightening, his knuckles white and his hands quivering. "Yes, sir!" he voiced in the typical military affirmative, only muted.

"I remember him," Sephiroth continued after a while. "The little blind boy. Reddish hair, freckles, a timid, quiet child. Reil…wasn't it?"

"Yes, sir," he murmured again, his long black hair that hung as he bowed his head hiding his expression.

"…And your parents…I took them as well."

The man didn't reply; wasn't capable of speaking.

"I've probably unforgivably wronged each and every last one of you, in some way or another," Sephiroth said in a dead voice, but he raised his volume until he had the attention of every last one of the hundred Turks. "I'm bound and unarmed. What's stopping you…_any_ of you…from killing me here and now?"

No answer was forthcoming. Some men stirred nervously, others cleared their throats or scuffed their shoes.

He turned around and thoroughly examined every perfect rank and file, and was astounded to see that not one single face was unfamiliar to him.

These were the men who had served under him when he was a revered General. Some he knew from their days as cadets or low rank Soldiers, others as Turk trainees or other factions of Shinra's army.

And not one of them had an answer for him.

Sephiroth didn't understand what was holding these men back. Every last one of them at least had respected him as their general, if not trusted or even idolized him. And he had repaid their loyalty by betraying them.

He saw a lot of things in his men's faces, but hostility and anger weren't among them.

The call to attention was made, and a hundred feet, hands and heads snapped to attention in a brief, instantaneous clap of sound. Once again, Sephiroth was surrounded by men on duty, who had no other purpose than to follow orders with precise exactness.

His former comrades and brothers in arms marched him forward until they reached a hole in the ceiling. Above him, past the remains of the ruined meteor memorial, the sky was rolling with thick, black clouds, heavy with rain and threatening with thunder and lightning. Not a single ray of sunlight would welcome him as he ascended.

The Turks fell back, filing in neat rows behind him. It was time.

Sephiroth stood under the hole in the concrete pipe and spread his single wing to its full length, sweeping a rush of powerful winds through the underground tunnels. After the soft roar had faded, he closed his eyes and took in one last breath of the heavy, earthen, mineral rich air.

"Wait, sir," someone behind him said softly. If Sephiroth's hearing had been any less acute, even he wouldn't have been able to detect it. He was quite sure that the Turk's comrades hadn't heard at all.

Sephiroth relaxed his wing, delaying his rise to the surface for a moment to fulfill this man's request.

The second time, though it was still a whisper to the Turks ears, Sephiroth recognized the voice as Reyson's.

"Permission to speak, General?" he asked.

Sephiroth turned his head to peer over his shoulder, half of his view hidden by his wing. He met the former cadet's eyes (Sephiroth had to remind himself that the man was a fully matured and sworn-in Turk now) and searched for a long while. The use of his old title had struck him hard. What was Reyson getting at? Had it been meant as a mockery?

As Sephiroth scrutinized the man's expression and posture, remembering his tone and analyzing that as well, Reyson proved himself to be the only person outside of his newly reunited family that did not look away when he met his eyes. Despite all that Sephiroth had done, to the world and to him in particular, Reyson looked at him without flinching, unafraid to meet and look into the eyes of the man whose hands had slaughtered thousands.

Sephiroth had not been able to discern anything. Admitting that he would not learn anything except by allowing the man to continue, he turned all the way around, fully facing the Turk. "Permission granted," he said.

Reyson didn't speak immediately. Had it not been for the strength in his eyes, Sephiroth might have attributed the pause to fear.

"I think I speak for all of us," Reyson began at last, "when I say that I don't know why or how, but I see no comparison between the general who once led us, the man before us now, and the monster that ravaged our world."

Sephiroth tensed at the word "monster", and everyone saw it.

"Perhaps they shaped each other, but that doesn't make them the same," Reyson added.

Sephiroth didn't answer to that. "Is that all?" he asked instead.

Reyson thought a moment. "Until we know the whole truth, General Sephiroth, if it should come to choosing sides," he concluded, "we are on yours."

And then Reyson snapped to attention and saluted him. In shock, Sephiroth watched as ninety-nine other hands and bodies quickly followed, until every Turk was giving him not an ordinary military salute, but the gesture of highest military honor, the one reserved for the most valiant and elite of heroes who had fallen in battle.

Sephiroth turned around and tilted his head to view the stormy sky. "I will remember it," he said. But even as he did, he couldn't help but compare the hundred who saluted him now to the hundred thousand above who roared for revenge.

Spreading his wing once more, he left the protection of the earthen caves, delivering himself into the hands of those who would kill him as he ascended into the air.

* * *

A/N: So this is the new chapter. Sorry about the confusion between 97 and 98.

I am THIS CLOSE to 300 pages...I am going to make it!!

I will write soon. As soon as I can recover from this weekend.


	100. Exposure

Everglow - Chapter One Hundred

The flash of a thousand cameras assailed his sensitive eyes, blinding him, reminiscent of the laboratory lights of his childhood, or the ambush of a fan girl who got lucky enough to snap a photo when he was a general. His ears, however, detected neither the soft, knowledgeable murmurings of scientists nor the excited, shrill shrieks and giggles of youthful girls, but the roar of thousands of voices, accusatory, condemning, wrathful.

He was under the scrutiny of the lights again, but not to be exposed to ponderous scientists or to adoring girls, but to all of enraged, wounded Gaia. Now, in the flare of the iridescent lights, he was not only exposed to the public, but the aftermath of what he himself had done was exposed to him.

Rage, terror, hatred, grief, _pain_…all of it fell on his shoulders. He didn't dare to raise his arms to shield his eyes for fear that the lights would reveal the blood of thousands on his hands.

The Turks around him were batting away photographers, but Sephiroth made no move to stop any of them. He let them do as they pleased, surrendering, neither looking at them nor away from them, but standing tall and still, silent.

But the initial excitement died quickly, doubtlessly because Sephiroth wasn't doing anything worth photographing. It wasn't long before the magnitude and gravity of his infamous presence spread. Starting with those nearest to him, who shrieked and looked away in fright, the reality that their world's murderer was standing before them in the flesh spread. All the clamor died down, and in its absence, a dreadful stillness washed over the whole population of Gaia. Thousands of citizens were mortified into silence, even the children and infants quieted, hushed by the overwhelming terror. The Turks no longer needed to keep such tight formation around him, for about a hundred yards of stagnant space was between him and the retreating Gaians.

Sephiroth watched with dead eyes as the people moved away, repelled from him by his deeds of the past. Mothers protectively shielded children with their own bodies, pulling them back when they were immobilized with fright. Most faces were twisted with fear, some with unspeakable rage, and yet these did not approach, a sickly pallor tinting their faces as well as well as the faces of the terrified.

He looked around the area and was horrified to find his own face displayed around the area, mirroring his every move. Shinra cameras were focused on him, and were broadcasting his every move to multiple screens around the area. He wasn't even shielded from the view of those were too far away to see him or those whose view was obstructed by the sheer number of people. Most likely, those who were too afraid to come were watching him on their televisions from the safety of their own homes.

_Everyone_ could see him.

Sephiroth held his hands up for a moment, and a flare of lightning tore the sky, the light glinting off his silver chains. The sound of the clinking links of his steel bindings was louder and echoed farther in the dead silence than the distant roar of thunder.

But the assurance that he was both bound and unarmed did nothing to alleviate the tension.

Rufus Shinra didn't waste too much of the silence, and employed the pause in rage to resume his speech. His voice came from multiple speakers around the area, though he stood, alone and unguarded, at a pulpit on one of the balconies in a surrounding building.

"I have said before that all this calamity is the fault of the Shinra Electric Power Company. In our quest for dominion over this planet we have torn it apart. Some of it we have rebuilt, but much of the damage will not be so easily repaired…"

A little girl who stood alone was watching Sephiroth intently, jumping up to try to see past those who were taller than her. Disheveled, light cocoa colored hair covered most of her face, except for a verdant eye. She blinked once, twice, as he met her gaze, and yet didn't shy away.

The girl's hands and arms were wrapped in old bandages, some of them fraying or dangling. The girl's feet were bare, dirty with dust, calloused with constant exposure to the earth without any protection. She wore a dress that looked to be made from an old cloth sack, the hole she had cut for her head too large, so one shoulder was left uncovered. Judging by the way her dress hung from her painfully slender form, Sephiroth doubted that she hadn't had a hot, nourishing meal in a long while.

Those around her sensed Sephiroth's lingering gaze, and began to eye the girl with suspicion. Noting that his attention would only bring her more harm, he blatantly turned his gaze to the dark horizon.

She was the only one among thousands to move. She was trying to move directly into his line of vision, still peering through a veil of matted hair. She still bobbed in and out of sight as she maneuvered through the mass of people, jumping up to see better, once standing on a box.

"...A former employee of ours named Professor Hojo…"

Sephiroth winced in distaste despite himself, the huge animated murals of him copying the movement. He didn't want Rufus to bring up his heritage and childhood, not now…

Thankfully, however, he didn't.

"…was left unattended to. We allowed him to go free and lost our sights on him. The raid these few months past was the result of our neglect. He had banded together with other scientists who either believed in his cause or were coerced into his service and created an organization of unbelievable might. We don't know what his motives might have been beyond creating more suffering, but whatever his objectives he created a deadly spore…"

Sephiroth immediately saw where this was going.

"…which infected two young girls and a single mother, as a warning as to what he could unleash upon all of Gaia. Our scientists could find neither a treatment nor a cure. Lyn was the first infected, with Mara and her mother soon to follow. Few of you know of little Lyn, but Mara and her mother were familiar to many of you. You have all seen what they went through and how dire a threat it was to all of humanity."

The bandaged little girl was moving again. She got on her hands and knees and crawled through the crowd, weaving through feet, until she was in the very front row, the closest she could get to Sephiroth without intruding into the stagnant no-man's-land.

"Sephiroth gave us the cure, risking his life to do so. Without him, our world as we know it would have fallen apart."

A murmur began to seep into the crowd, but it was not one of gratitude, rather, of doubt and suspicion.

"Everyone here is indebted to Sephiroth, whether you choose to accept it or not."

The quiet roar took on a darker tone. Indebted to a monster? Sephiroth began to see pockets of rage stirring, old feelings once kept at bay by terror beginning to awaken. Rufus was trying to argue in Sephiroth's defense, but instead was stirring the simmering anger. Soon, something would blow.

"So what does that mean?" one man yelled, forcing his way to the front. He was young, perhaps twenty-five, slender but well built, with the rough complexion of one who worked in the mines. The man pointed an accusatory finger at Sephiroth. "We forget everything? Meteor, Nibelheim, it all means nothing?"

Sephiroth admired the man, though his words stung deeply. To say such things was either true bravery or sheer desperation. The latter seemed more likely. How many in the crowd were brave simply because they had nothing left to lose? What did they care if Sephiroth took their lives after he had already robbed them of so much?

The miner glared at Sephiroth, challenging him to answer, not lowering his hand that pointed so hurtfully at him. Sephiroth took the abuse meekly and would not be provoked. Not caring if the world saw him as weak, he lowered his head and closed his eyes.

Reyson's strong hand gripped his forearm and squeezed, conveying strength. Sephiroth tried not to think about what the townspeople would do to him later for that simple brotherly action.

"Nibelheim," Rufus continued, "Meteor, were all incidents that point directly back to the faults of Shinra."

Rufus went on for a long while, providing an exhaustive list of faults that Shinra had. The war in Wutai was brought up, the tampering with human lives and capabilities, the establishment of a dictatorship centered around the power of the earth, among others. Sephiroth saw what he was doing. To outright proclaim that Sephiroth was innocent would be met with an uproar. No one would listen. What he was trying to do was beat around the bush, sow seeds of doubt and confusion to try to break apart the rock of their condemnation of him. He was trying to avert the blow from Sephiroth as an individual to Shinra as a whole.

The little girl in the sack dress came into his view again, no matter how many times he tried to look elsewhere. Soon, however, he learned that people were just as afraid of the little girl when he looked _away_ from her as when he looked _at_ her, as if she was his accomplice and he was trying to protect her. It was a lose-lose situation. The girl would not be accepted so long as she persisted in trying to win his attention.

Thunder roared in the distance, closer and louder this time. A stray wind blew her hair away from her face, and Sephiroth learned two things. Firstly, that he knew this girl. She was the daughter of one of his cadets when he was a general. Having first established her identity, the second revelation came as a much harder blow than if he hadn't known.

The reason she kept her face hidden (and probably why her arms were bandaged as well) was because horrific scars of grievous burns from the fires of Nibelheim disfigured her innocent, frail little body.

Not only did he know that she was scarred for life, but he also knew that he had taken her parents. She was an orphan, and it was his fault. Staggering grief bore down on him. It was much harder to see the individual, each unique story and episode of loss, than to behold the entire population of nameless faces.

He began to avoid her then. What he possibly say or do to atone for all that he had done to her? And to the rest of the people…her pain multiplied by thousands. Suddenly, the hope of redemption that Aralyn had given him seemed unattainable, an impossible solace for a monster of his caliber even to dream of.

More people were beginning to rally together, led by the brave miner who had spoken against Sephiroth before. The simmering unrest was quickly intensifying.

"It is because of Shinra that the world is the way it is. Because of my father's and my own reign, the world suffers today. That is why, before all of you, I step down from the position of leader of Shinra, and therefore, Gaia in its entirety. I will lead you no longer."

This effectively killed the turbulence. That eerie silence resumed for a heartbeat, and then worried mumblings. Sure Shinra might have been corrupt, but it was all the leadership they had known for many years now. To eliminate the supremacy of the Shinra company would plunge Gaia into anarchy. Fear began to ripple through the crowd again. Wasn't even a corrupt law better than complete lawlessness?

"This is not the end of our government, rather, a reform." Rufus assured the people. "I have appointed someone to take my place."

Sephiroth was filled with dread as he realized what Rufus was doing. The blood ran from his face and he stumbled, unable to hold himself composed without the help of Reyson and no small number of other Turks. "No!" he cried in anguish, but his cry was swallowed up by Rufus's proclamation that would shatter his life.

"I name Sephiroth to be my successor as the supreme ruler of Gaia."

* * *

A/N: Raise of hands, how many of you saw that one coming? An interesting dilemma, no?

Okay, here's the deal. I am going to finish Everglow THIS WEEK. Because it's spring break and I need to. I'm impatient to get started on The Marked. I will be posting (hopefully!) a chapter a day or at most, every other day.

Hang in there, we're almost done!


	101. Justice and Forgiveness

Everglow - Chapter One Hundred and One

Sephiroth knew that this hadn't been an impromptu decision. Rufus had been planning this all along. This was why nearly the entire regiment of Turks had been placed around_ him_ while Rufus was left unguarded. Not only was it in anticipation of the ensuing reaction, but it gave Sephiroth the look of the leader, as if power and loyalty had already shifted hands.

There was only one slight miscalculation on Rufus's part: the sheer numbers of rioters and the force of their rage.

"Kill him, before he takes the rest of what we managed to salvage the first time!" the miner screamed.

"Kill him!" became the chant.

The little orphan burst into tears.

The Turks were suddenly overwhelmed with the onslaught of thousands.

The storm hit.

A bolt of lightning hit the Meteor memorial behind Sephiroth dead on. The explosion of heat and light felled most, the assault of the deafening roar of thunder taking care of the rest. The mighty memorial crumbled, rocks split and charred, cascading down to fall to the stone street. Though the square echoed with screams, it was more a result of chaos and panic than damage. As far as Sephiroth could see, no one had been harmed by the lightning strike or the avalanche of stone. He could smell no blood in the air.

The once organized attack on Sephiroth was disbanded. People were trying to flee in panic, pushing, shoving, trampling the weak in a frenzy to escape. Though Sephiroth held his hands out to show that he held no materia, the common idea was that the lightning had been summoned by him. On the bright side, the chaos gave the Turks a brief respite to regroup and reload their guns.

But, as it turned out, the lightning had been a result of materia after all.

"Hey!" a spunky voice thundered from the skies, overpowering even the screams of thousands. Above the chaos, Yuffie Kisiragi was balanced precariously on a rail of Cid's airship, one hand tossing a golden, glowing materia while the other held a particularly large loud speaker. "You really ought to show some more respect to a guy who just saved every one of your pathetic hides!"

Every member of Avalanche excepting Vincent, Tifa, Cid, Barret, Cait Sith, Red XIII, and even Cloud, fell in around the Turks that surrounded Sephiroth, weapons bared, adding another layer to his defense. Yuffie parachuted down from the airship to land beside Cloud, wavering a moment from motion sickness, but then regaining herself and taking up her weapon with a smile.

Cloud parted his way through the Turks to speak to Sephiroth. Cloud nodded curtly in greeting and then spoke. "Vincent says he's sorry he couldn't help."

"Why did you leave Aralyn?" Sephiroth demanded, furious.

"Because _you're _the one in danger and she…" He stopped abruptly as an explosion rocked the earth. Frowning, he cut his message short. "We took your family to Faramir in the airship, which is why we were late. They have more Turks with them than you do. They're fine. _All_ of them are fine," he emphasized again.

Sephiroth didn't have the opportunity to enquire further. As Cloud ran into the fray, he shouted behind him, "Just do whatever you need to do _quickly_!" There was an urgency that chilled Sephiroth to the bone and made his uncertainty all that more excruciating. What was going on?

"Why are you doing this?" Sephiroth yelled after him, but Cloud was too busy to answer.

The chaos caused by the lightning and then the earthquake was only a short period; within minutes, the people had regained sight of their common enemy. Screaming, they charged forward by the thousands. The Turks, as valiant as they were, were vastly outnumbered. Avalanche was batting back many more, but sheer numbers were against them.

Sephiroth watched as the work of death budded and then bloomed. The Turks had been given the order to avoid killing and shoot only if vital, but in some cases it wasn't becoming an option. Avalanche was trying its hardest to land blows that would stun, but not kill, but the citizens of Gaia were in this to the death, and in what was quickly becoming a battle of self-defense for Avalanche, they would fight in defense of their own lives rather than the townspeople's. Between the Turks and Avalanche, the townspeople didn't have a chance. It was suicide, but they were beyond caring.

He had seen enough.

He had already killed too many Gaians.

He wanted no more blood on his hands.

"I refuse!" he cried, not taking care to note how his voice was amplified by a microphone that was hidden to him, ringing unmistakably clear in everyone's ears. "I _refuse_ to become your leader!"

Some fell away, stunned enough to listen, but others, taking it for a ploy, continued their onslaught. Sephiroth could taste blood in the thick air. Soon, it would get out of control.

"Listen to me!" he continued, desperately trying to draw their attention away from a fight where they would be annihilated. Thousands still charged straight into their deaths, heedless of his words.

Another bolt of lightning conveniently hit where no one would be hurt but massive panic would ensue. "Hey!" Yuffie shouted into her loudspeaker again, her materia sparking threateningly. "The guy who saved your sorry skins is _talking_ to you!"

Probably due more to the lightning than her exclamations, the crowd paused, only a handful continuing their struggle, but these were quickly pinned and forced into submission.

"Listen to me," he repeated, softer, now that he didn't have to fight to be heard. "I don't want to be your leader."

A few voices rang out, calling him a liar, but they soon turned to groans and then to silence.

"If Rufus continues to insist that I take supreme power, fine. I accept. And as my first undisputable action under my total authority, I withdraw and reappoint him."

The shouts of rebellion were beginning to die down, slowly but surely. A remarkable thing was beginning to occur: the people were beginning to listen to him.

"I don't ask you to forgive me," he said softly. "I know full well what I have done." He hesitated, but forced himself to continue in a broken voice.

"I remember everything," he said. "Everything about me is enhanced; the same is true with my memory. I can say with complete honesty that I remember every single life I have taken as if it was happening now…perhaps clearer, as now I am free from Jenova's influence. Jenova," he spoke the name with disgust, "had a habit of making me lock eyes with every one of the dying as they drew their last agonizing breaths. The screams, the pleas, the blood, and the eyes, _oh_…the eyes…torture me every waking moment, and will until the day I die. Your husbands and wives, your children, and your friends…I remember every one of them distinctly and individually.

"From the bottom of whatever soul remains in me..."

No one spoke. Those who had struggled to get a chance at Sephiroth were released by the Turks, and yet did not pursue him anymore. Most of the people assembled, if not all of them, were looking at him with something other than terror in their eyes.

Despite the feebleness, frailty, and inadequacy of the words, Sephiroth brokenly whispered them all the same.

"I am sorry."

"Before I relinquish my supreme power, I will exercise it once more. Turks," he commanded, "step aside. Avalanche, withdraw, disarm yourselves."

Neither of the parties he addressed moved.

"Disarm!" he roared, back to the authoritative tone of the general on the battlefield.

Two beats of silence and then they shuffled to the side. Hundreds of guns and swords hit the ground. There was a pathway about fifty feet wide leading straight to Sephiroth.

"If any of you seek my life, take it. I won't stop you."

The miner, the leader of those who sought his life, seized one of the guns that had been dropped by the Turks and, with an enraged battle scream, charged Sephiroth. The Turks and Avalanche tensed in reaction, but Sephiroth barked, "Stay back!" and they were powerless to disobey.

The young miner swiped the heavy handle of the gun across Sephiroth's passive face. The general crumpled, not a sound spilling from his lips, without a flinch in resistance even as blood spilled from the hands that covered his face.

Sephiroth laid face down on the ground, submissive and silent, even as the miner screamed terrible insults, struck him again and again with his fists and the gun, kicked him until ribs shattered and blood poured from his lips, until his wing was visibly broken and leaking crimson, until he trembled silently in agony. Throughout it all, he accepted the incapacitating shame and hurt without so much as a cry or sound in his throat.

No one could do anything but witness the seraph's abuse with horror in their hearts as restitution and vengeance were delivered.

When Sephiroth lay sprawled out on the street, broken and bloodied, the miner at last tired of his game, and decided to ensue with the capital vengeance.

But, though his gun was pressed against the general's heart, though the gun was loaded with enough ammunition to kill him twenty times over, the miner could not bring himself to shoot.

The man howled a curse to the black skies, screaming a woman's name, tears flowing down his cheeks. He tried again and again to point the gun at Sephiroth, crying for justice, calling on the name of the woman he loved, and yet, again and again, could not bring himself to end the life that had claimed his wife's.

Choking, he flung the gun at Sephiroth's feet and turned on his heels. "Get out of here, _monster_," he hissed abhorrently. "And don't _ever_ come back!"

As the miner ran into the crowd, Cloud bent down to pick up his sword, eyes locked on the retreating man. "No," Sephiroth rasped through his own blood. "Let him go."

As Avalanche enfolded the fallen warrior, healing materia in hand, the crowd began to disperse quietly. Many looked back at Sephiroth with something far different in their eyes than the poison hatred they had arrived with.

As Avalanche's hands flew to heal his wounds, Reyson handed him an earpiece, and through it Sephiroth heard the last message he would ever receive from Rufus Shinra.

"Actions speak louder than words, Sephiroth. You showed them what I could never tell them. Go to your wife and family, live in peace, but always remember that you are the single soul most tortured by the actions of Shinra. None of the blood falls on your hands. Some of the fault is Jenova's, doubtless, but the sins of Shinra are in many ways, much greater."

Sephiroth now knew why Rufus had offered him that position of supreme power even though chances were that he knew he would never accept.

His quest under Jenova was to subdue the entire human race, and it wasn't a secret to anybody. By offering him the chance to become leader, Rufus had handed Sephiroth the easy means to achieve that goal on a silver platter. When the Gaians saw him so vehemently refuse it, when they expected him to eagerly accept, it gave irrevocable proof that he was a different man.

Actionsspeaklouderthanwords. He had _showed_ the world he was different.

The temporary power he had held over Gaia also had enabled him to sweep his protections aside. Once again, he proved to the world that he was not the man who massacred thousands when he allowed the miner to humiliate and torture him like that when Sephiroth could have easily broken the man's neck with a flick of his little finger.

Yes, he had to credit Rufus for the brilliance, and he thanked him for it, because now his wife and children would live safer lives.

Sephiroth returned the earpiece to Reyson and in return, Reyson exchanged it for a small slip of paper. "From the little orphan with the burns," he explained. "She wanted to give this to you."

As he unfolded the slip of paper, a simple silver locket fell into his palm, the small heart distorted during its tempering in the flames of Nibelheim.

The little girl had given him probably the only thing of beauty and value she had left in her life.

"I forgive you," the slip said. "And Mommy and Daddy do too."

* * *

A/N: Meh...I'll rewrite it later. I really don't feel up to rewriting tonight.

Coming tomorrow...BABY!


	102. Into the Night

Everglow - Chapter One Hundred and Two

Sephiroth was seated in a chair and commanded to sit and rest for the ride to Faramir, but all around him the airship was in a flurry of dizzying activity.

Yuffie was constantly on her phone, pacing in little circles as she talked, making highly animated and dramatic gestures with her hands to illustrate her argument in vain.

"We're _taking_ them to Costa de Sol … So? Everyone there dyes their hair wacky colors. … Oh big _deal_! Buy some already! … The _difference_ is that _they've_ never been! Vince, just because _you're_ a vampire and can't stand the sunlight doesn't mean… Look man, you're now officially pretty much the worst babysitter _ever_… Yes, as a matter of fact I _would_ do a better job! Wanna try me?"

Sephiroth only followed the conversation half-heartedly. If Yuffie wanted a vacation to Costa de Sol that was her business. He did, however, find himself feeling very sorry for Vincent, who had to continually argue with her.

Tifa was a bit more worrisome to watch. She was constantly running around the airship, throwing open every cabinet and cubby on the plane and rummaging through its contents, biting her lip, groaning in frustration every now and again.

All this, added to the yelled directions between the men, was beginning to give Sephiroth a splitting headache. He tried not to complain; after all, Avalanche was ignoring past animosity to bring him home, but it reached a point where he felt that his head would surely burst.

He rose to his feet and approached the still pacing Yuffie. She stopped her conversation a little too abruptly as he approached, clenching her phone in her palm to stifle all sound. "What do you want?" she asked tersely.

"Is there a separate room….?"

"Oh!" In an instant, all the tension was drained from her face. She smiled sheepishly. She pointed a finger down a hallway. "Eh that way…Yeeeaaa---wait, _no!_" The smile vanished, she shouted and retracted her finger, grabbing Sephiroth's arm and pulling him away from where he had begun to face the hallway.

"No, you can't," she said, a little too flustered. "Eh…sorry." Offering no explanation, she pushed him back down in the chair and walked much farther away to continue her conversation with Vincent, frequently sending him skeptical glances to ensure that he had stayed put.

Cloud noticed the encounter and came to help. "A little loud?" he asked.

"Deafening," Sephiroth replied.

"Sorry, everyone's all worked up. We're almost to Faramir."

"What's going on?"

Cloud hesitated. "You need to rest," was the only reply he offered.

And then Tifa worriedly called to him and he was gone.

He didn't want to impose on Avalanche's hospitality, but he felt as if his head was slowly splitting in two. Everyone was too busy to notice how he slipped down the hallway toward the room.

The door was locked, but the key was, quite shamefully predictably, under the doormat. Sighing, he slid the key into the lock and stepped inside…

…and immediately collapsed to his knees, breathless.

The sheets on the bed were tangled and knotted, bearing testament to the struggles of the past soul to lie there. Worse, the sheets were soaking wet and splattered with horrifying amounts of crimson blood. The room smelled strongly of sweat.

_"We had to fly Aralyn to Faramir…whatever you're going to do, do it __**quickly**_!" Cloud had said.

In her wanderings, Yuffie had paced her way right outside the door, where Sephiroth could hear everything. "You don't know how long it's going to last! Gaia forbid, but it could be _days_! … I'm not being _unrealistic_ I'm being _prepared_! … Oh come _on_, like you know any more about it than I do…"

Sephiroth didn't know how he hadn't seen it before. He burst out the door and grabbed Yuffie by her forearms.

"What is happening?" he demanded furiously, feeling that he already knew but wanting to hear himself proved wrong.

Yuffie stammered, her mouth falling open and nervous noises coming out, but nothing that he could use as an explanation. He held out his hand, gesturing for her to hand him the cell phone. She threw it to him like it burned her, then sidled, and, when she was out of his sight, ran away.

"Vincent," Sephiroth snapped into the phone, not bothering to identify himself. "Where are my children?"

"Right now we're in a hotel," he replied calmly. "No one saw us. We're safe."

"_Don't_ take them to Costa de Sol, whatever Yuffie said." Sephiroth commanded.

"Noted. We'll hang tight here until we hear word."

He hung up and threw the phone back to Yuffie, who fumbled but eventually caught it.

From where he stood, he could hear Tifa rummaging through drawers in an adjacent room. "Barret," she called to the man who was nearest to her. "What kind of medicines do we have that could help?"

"You're overreacting," Barett insisted in a gruff voice. "This is a happy day for Aralyn and Sephiroth, you should be celebrating."

"I'll celebrate when the baby is safely delivered!" Tifa insisted as something heavy fell and hit the floor, its contents spilling with the sound of high chimes. "You saw how badly she was bleeding! I don't think that's an indicator of a healthy birth! Make yourself useful! Find things aboard the ship that could help!"

As Barett left, Sephiroth walked in. Tifa looked up from her work. "We didn't want you to worry," she said quietly. "Especially with you just being hurt like that…we wanted to let you rest a little before you had to go back to a wife in labor."

"What happened?" he asked breathlessly.

"She saw a lot of what happened to you, what people said, and just couldn't take it anymore. The stress induced her labor. Her water broke while we were getting her to Faramir, I guess you saw that on the bed, though. I'm sorry, that wasn't the way we wanted you to find out. Yuffie was supposed to clean it up but…"

The phone in Tifa's pocket rang. She took it out and looked at the screen, then handed it to Sephiroth. "It's Lucrecia," she said. "I think you'd better get it."

* * *

The storm had hit full force during his airship journey, and rain was pouring in sheets. Lightning was striking first at a distance, but was steadily marching onward toward his humble home. Winds rocked the mighty airship, roaring like a terrible beast all around them, devouring them.

Despite all these conditions, Sephiroth was off the plane before it touched the ground. He leapt, unable to wait a moment longer, and let himself plummet a thousand feet or more before he spread his wing to catch his fall.

He hit the ground sprinting, tearing through the army of Turks that stood as silent guards around his home, charging through the serene little garden and pounding up the steps to his front door. He wrenched the locked door open, tearing the bolt through the doorframe and partly unhinging the door. He cast it aside and continued unhindered.

His home was cast in darkness. One of the lightning bolts had struck the small generator that powered their home, so there was no light to keep the long shadows of nightfall and the storm at bay. Furniture made imposing, threatening figures in the gloomy dark. Through a broken window a frigid breeze wailed high and wraithlike, giving the house plants a sinister animation; tossing vines like waving arms, leaves like hands desperate to ensnare, blossoms like mouths gaping wide…

"_Aralyn_!" he cried in the darkness, but a clap of thunder drowned his voice.

At the end of the hallway, a soft, warm gold glow spilled from the partly opened door to the master bedroom, the only light in the home that was turned to a haunted house by nightfall. "She's in here," Lucrecia's soft voice called. "Come," she urged. "Quickly!"

The hallway was longer than he remembered, and his feet were slow and heavy. Except for the raging of the storm outside, it was so quiet and still. What if he had come too late?  
The golden light of the room wavered, mocking him, taunting him, and yet compelling him onward.

The innermost sanctum of his home was not free from shadows either, but was kept from total consumption by three emergency candles lit at the bedside. The room was hot from the tiny flames, the air heavy and sticky, thick with anticipation.

"Sephiroth…?" a strained, weak voice called. "Is it really you?"

Aralyn laid on the bed in the silken folds of her white nightdress, a trembling figure of pale flesh and golden hair against the crimson sheets, glistening in her sweat, sapphire eyes glazed in fever. At her head, Vivian hovered, dipping a soft cloth in a bowl of cool water and wiping the sweat from her face, whispering soft words of strength and encouragement, taking her hand and squeezing for support.

"It is…" Aralyn breathed. She raised a shaking hand and reached for him, trying to rise to see him better, but Vivian and Lucrecia both pressed her down.

"Easy, Aralyn," Vivian murmured soothingly. "Save your strength."

Sephiroth entwined his fingers with hers. "I'm here," he assured her tenderly, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes.

"I was so afraid that they'd killed you!"

"Aralyn, I'm here. I'm all right." He leaned down and kissed her lips softly. While he still held Aralyn, he lifted his head to look at Lucrecia. "How is she doing?"

"She'll be much better now that you're here," she assured him.

"Sephiroth," Aralyn cried, her back suddenly arching. "Hold me…please…it's time!"

He gently sat her upright and pressed her back to his chest, encircling her body with his arms for both support and restraint, letting her grip one of his hands with both hers and squeeze while his other hand lovingly stroked her face. He bent down so his mouth was at her ear.

"_Mi fili, veni…veni, veni, mi fili…"_

And so began the longest night in Sephiroth's life.

* * *

A/N: BABY!!! I am so sorry that this took forever. I wasn't expecting my chief editor to ABANDON me (not really, Tehn, I still lurve thee!) or to have to write a paper to get me into AP Literature next year.

This is the second to last chapter. The next will be an epilogue entitled "Dawn".

IMPORTANT NOTICE!

Upon pondering the plots for the pre-Broken Wings and the post-Everglow books, I decided to switch up the titles a little bit because I found a better one for the next book.

_**The prequil to Broken Wings**_ will be called The Marked.

**_The next book that will follow the plot of Everglow _**will be called Motherland. If any of you have heard the song Motherland by Heather Nova, this is the song I used as my inspiration.


	103. Dawn

Everglow - Chapter One Hundred and Three

Their baby's first newborn cries came as the dawning rays broke through the storm.

Aralyn weakly cried in release, in ecstasy at the emergence of her tiny child. Sephiroth began at last to breathe again, the tension in his body washing away with the sign of his wife's triumph.

It was done. The night was over.

In Lucrecia's hands was a very ruddy miniature human figure, wriggling and wailing as so many new sensations assailed its form. As Vivian wrapped the quivering little thing in a blanket, Lucrecia beamed at her newest grandchild, tears glistening in her eyes.

"Aralyn," she said, "Sephiroth, you have a beautiful, healthy baby boy."

Aralyn's hands, though trembling with weakness, reached out toward her son. "My baby..." she whispered in awe, tears of wonder streaming down her cheeks.

But she was too weak to take even such a tiny frame from Lucrecia. Sephiroth took him instead, cradling his son in his hands with tenderness uncharacteristic for one so strong. Gently, he laid his tiny son against Aralyn's bosom, and together the couple welcomed their newest child.

The first cries had been stilled by his father's gentle touch, subsiding to soft mewling whimpers. Now, as the boy had both of his parents' nurturing arms around him, he fell into silence, perhaps recognizing the spirits of his new guardians. A gentle, sacred loving quiet enveloped the room.

"He's perfect, Sephiroth," Aralyn whispered.

And perfect he was. The little boy's skin was pale, as his father's was, with little tufts atop his head that promised to be the same silver color. His face, however, was undeniably his mother's. His features were soft, delicate, but not breakable due to the strength that seemed imbued in him already. The child's mild manner was apparent immediately, for, unlike his brother had been as an infant, he stilled, moved little, making no noise but for small breaths.

As his mother's hand touched his cheek, his eyes opened for the first time, and all were spellbound by neither Aralyn's sapphire eyes, nor his father's mako green with cat pupils, but deep, rich honey amber, flecked with distinctive slivers of gold and earthen brown. And as his father reached to take a tiny hand in his own, the boy's arm was revealed. From his shoulder to his wrist on his right arm were strange, dark markings, writhing like an ancient script across his pale, milky flesh.

But the parents would not be daunted by either abnormality.

He was their perfect, flawless son.

"Welcome to our family, little one," Sephiroth whispered reverently to the child, who blinked his dazzling eyes and let out a soft mew in response.

And so began the radiant dawning of the brightest epoch in Sephiroth's reunited family. The promise of peace, of healing, was as sure and bright as the new life shining in their newborn's eyes.

* * *

Sephiroth was awakened when the front door opened a few hours later, but his wife and son slept on, the both of them exhausted. He smiled lovingly and gave each a gentle kiss before he left the bed to greet his guests.

Aidan and Nadiya flew to him, wrapping their arms around his legs. He laughed softly and bent down, taking the twins in his arms.

"Is it true?" Aidan asked. "Is my brother really here?"

"He is," Sephiroth assured him. "You can meet him, if you'd like."

An odd croaking noise came from behind him, and there was some kind of cold, wet slime on his pants. His silver eyebrows rose in an unasked question, eyeing his children curiously.

"It's okay, Daddy," Aidan assured him. "It's just Franklin."

"…Franklin?"

Aidan withdrew his arms from around his father to show him said Franklin. Clenched in his hand was a rather large and very ugly green toad. Aidan gripped the poor creature around the middle; the thing's legs flailed pathetically in midair while its arms uselessly probed the hand that captured it. The toad croaked, its cheeks bloating up, perhaps in a plea for liberation as its huge amphibious eyes met out the ex-general's.

"Vincent took us to a pond! I got him for a pet! He's going to love being in our family!"

Sephiroth didn't tell his excited son that the creature looked mortified and hardly pleased with its current captive position and surroundings, but his thoughts must had seeped into his expression, because Aidan looked disappointed. "You don't like him, Daddy?"

The frog, frightened by both the sudden flair of strength that had seized the hand restraining him and the eerie mako eyes peering confusedly down at him, suddenly released a lot of water, making a sizeable puddle on the carpet.

"Franklin!" Aidan scolded.

"It's all right," Sephiroth said, chuckling a little. "I'll clean it up later. Now, why don't you put Franklin in the backyard pond where he can be a little happier, and I'll get your little brother."

"Okay Daddy, I'll show him to Mommy later." Happy with the compromise, Aidan and Nadiya scampered off to introduce their little amphibian friend to its new habitat.

* * *

They tiptoed into the room silently, but the door creaked on its hinges as they tried to shut it. Aralyn stirred and a little sigh came from the newborn's lips, but they slept on.

"Is Mommy okay?" Aidan whispered, not very quietly.

That woke Aralyn. She opened her heavy eyes and met her children's, giving them a warm, welcoming smile. "Good morning," she said. "Welcome home!"

Both the twins leapt up onto the huge bed, skittering to her side and making themselves comfortable there. She hugged and kissed her son and daughter, smoothing Nadiya's hair and ruffling Aidan's a little. "Did you have a good time with Vincent?" she asked.

"Yeah!" Aidan replied enthusiastically. "He's the best!"

"_But it's good to be home,_" Nadiya signed, curling up to her mother. "_At last._"

In all the enthusiasm, the little bundle in their mother's arms began to stir, letting out a weak whine in protest.

"That's our brother?" Aidan asked skeptically, eyeing the bundle doubtfully.

"He's small now, but he'll grow faster than you think," Aralyn said. "Come here, you can hold him."

Aidan and Nadiya sat side by side, the both of them holding their brother together after Aralyn laid him across their laps.

"_Tiny_," Nadiya signed. "_So tiny._"

"Whoa, look at his hands! And his toes!"

"_He has pretty eyes. Like gold. Sunshine._"

"He's going to be the best brother _ever_!"

"_I love you, little brother._" And she kissed his tiny cheek.

The newborn was patient with his siblings, letting them explore him in wonder and amazement, once even blowing them a few bubbles and gurgling happily. But soon his calm temperament wore thin. First let out little squalls of discontentment, then began to cry, waving his fists frantically.

Nadiya began to cry too. _"Baby doesn't like me!_"

"Oh, no baby!" Aralyn soothed her daughter. "It's been a while since he's eaten. He's probably just very hungry."

"_Oh_." She felt better after that.

"Sephi," Aralyn called softly. "Love, could you bring me a bottle?"

Sephiroth entered with a warm bottle, sliding it into Aralyn's hand as he leaned down to kiss her. "Sorry to be a burden, my angel," she sighed.

"Nonsense," he hushed her. "You're never a burden."

"Don't babies drink Mommy's milk?" Aidan asked.

"Of course, but I wanted you two to feed him." She squeezed a drop of the milk onto the inside of her wrist, smiling up at her husband when she found it the perfect temperature. After another soft kiss, Aralyn gave their crying son to her husband.

Nadiya jumped off the bed and climbed onto the rocking chair, holding her arms out eagerly. Sephiroth knelt and slid his son into his daughter's arms, teaching her how to hold him firmly in the crook of one arm so she could feed him with the other. Beaming, Nadiya slid the bottle into her brother's open mouth. The little boy gave a coo of contentment and then began to suck, closing his eyes as if asleep.

Nadiya's feet weren't long enough to touch the ground, but she swung them rhythmically back and forth as if on a swing, using her momentum to gently rock the chair. When her feet weren't enough, she learned to flap her wings in such a way that swung the chair forward. She fell into a soothing rhythm as she fed her little brother: kick out, kick in, flap…kick out, kick in, flap…

Aidan sat beside his sister on the rocking chair, patting his brother's silver hair with a reverence all but foreign to the vibrant boy.

When the bottle was drained, their brother fell into a happy sleep. Sephiroth quietly took his son back and returned to the baby to his wife's side in the bed, letting Aralyn sleep with her little baby boy.

Nadiya yawned as well, rubbing her eyes with her fists. Aidan's eyes were drooping too. Sephiroth guessed that they hadn't slept much the previous night. He took Aidan first and set him down on the big bed, then positioned Nadiya as well. There was enough room for all of them to rest together.

With his tiny son between him and Aralyn and his son and daughter curled under blankets at the foot of the bed, he allowed himself to drift as well.

The war was over. Those who would have harmed his cherished ones were dead or vanished. Old enemies had become friends.

And all around the general were those who meant the world to him. His _family_. The word was sweet, but foreign. He would have much to learn to be the father he needed to be.

Somehow, through the blood and pain of his past, a bright and radiant future had bloomed. Through the long nights of oppression and battle had come a radiant dawn of promise. The despair, the anguish and guilt for his past, had seeped away, and a song of hope played in his heart, a melody pure and sweet enough to heal him and his family.

Sephiroth looked down at his tiny son and wondered that something so pure and innocent could spring from such bloodied hands. "Sagno," he whispered. "Sagno, my son…"

"…the song of our hearts," Aralyn and Sephiroth whispered together.

And so their golden eyed son was named for the melody of hope which resounded in his parents' souls.

The pain was over.

The battle had been won.

This was the dawn of their lives.

And they would embrace it together.

…_As a family._

_

* * *

_

A/N: Next and final chapter to be posted about....NOW.


	104. Afterword

Everglow - Afterword

Not a week after little Sagno's birth, Vivian and Vincent were wed in the same small chapel that Sephiroth and Aralyn had been. With only Avalanche and Sephiroth's family to witness, the pair exchanged their fervent vows and became bride and groom at long last. Their wedding, at Vivian's request, had been scheduled on the dawning of a lively spring day, to symbolize their own triumph over the night and beginning of their new life together. Vincent was still desperately weak from his ordeal, only able to stand with Sephiroth's assistance, but had never looked so complete, so healed.

Vega and Yazoo were wed moments after Vivian and Vincent were bound together, the couple as eager as their predecessors to become as one. Then, as soon as they were proclaimed husband and wife, Yazoo swept Vega off her feet and disappeared into the sunrise, off to travel together, following every wind that promised of adventure.

Even their humble frog had gained a family. The toad was quite at home in their pond, so much so that a family of tadpoles had sprung there. Franklin had to be renamed Mrs. Franklin, as the toad proved to be female, the mother of her tiny brood.

Andrite had vanished, and had taken Tali's body with him. In respect for their fallen comrade, Avalanche and Sephiroth's family constructed a stone memorial and had lit a torch in remembrance of the valiant life that had been taken in their struggles. The flame was tended to every day and night, never allowed to be suffocated by the storms or winds, and was kept eternally burning.

The note Andrite had left was read by Sephiroth as the strong warrior's eulogy. "Do not grieve for her. She is free at last, in the heavens, reunited with her beloved Kanu as she never could be here on the earth."

The boy had also left a curiously constructed key for Sephiroth. "Tali has named the Lady Dawn, her husband, and her heirs, as her successors to the palace at Seventh Point Isle. If ever you should need a refuge, you will have a home among the islanders."

Aidan returned the Masamune to his father after Sephiroth had tried to pass it to his son. "Someday I will wield your sword with pride," he said. "But not today. For now, you are Masamune's master."

The mountains on which Faramir was located was a perfect training ground, and Aidan was instructed by his father in the way of the sword, proving himself to be every bit the prodigy everyone had expected him to be.

Nadiya also asked to be trained, to everyone's surprise, but she learned only enough to defend herself should the need arise. Satisfied with her meager skills, she preferred to stay at home and play the grand piano that had become the newest addition to their home. She became a master musician at a young age, and their home was always filled with her music.

Grievances with Avalanche were eased quickly, and the group often visited the family. Vincent and Vivian were even more frequent visitors, so much so that the children referred to Vincent as "Uncle Vinnie".

Cloud was named as Sagno's godfather, as it was through his efforts that the boy had even been born.

Faramir was expanded to accommodate the three children. Each was given their own room that was more than spacious enough to accommodate their various interests and needs. But often, they were found in little Sagno's room, sleeping in cots they had made themselves, giving up the luxury of a bed for the comfort of being together.

Life was not perfect for the family. Despite their idealistic surroundings, the shadows of the past haunted them all at times. Nadiya sometimes crawled into bed with her mother and father, trembling from a nightmare, and both the twins lived in fear that one day they would awake in Hojo's laboratory to find that this all had been a fantasy. But time and family would serve to heal, and now, they had all the time in the world together.

And, for the first time since Nibelheim, two roses grew in the pot at their hearth, one the fiery red of love, and one the pure, innocent white of hope, both stems so intertwined that it seemed to be two blooms from the same stem.

And budding at its roots were three unidentifiable flowers that had yet to open, blooms whose mysterious beauty would only be revealed with time.

But Sephiroth and his family were not impatient. They had all the time in the world together.

* * *

A/N: Anyone catch the tie to Broken Wings?

This is the last chapter of Everglow. It is done. (PARTY!). Not really. I am kind of sad to see it go...

For those of you who are interested, the final page count is 312.

_**The book that follows this chronologically will be called "Motherland". "The Marked" is young Sephy and Aralyn story.**_ Remember that.

I hope to have The Marked posted by tonight, if not Motherland as well, but I'm not promising anything.

Thank you for your support! I've had a wonderful experience.

With e-cheese and cookies to all,

Flutist Girl


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